4/. 


IZU, 


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Sire  Topas  and  j*  gret  Glaunt  Olipbaunt 


&  p  &  >y 
CANTERBURY   TALES. 


By  GEOFFREY  CHAUCER 


jfarm  tfje  QLtxt 

AND  WITH   THE  NOTES  AND  GLOSSARY 

OF 

THOMAS  TYRWHITT. 

CONDENSED  AND  ABBANGED  UNDEB  THE  TEXT. 


A   NEW  EDITION. 


ILLUSTRATED   BY    EDWARD   CORBOULD. 


NEW  YORK: 

D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  346  &  348  BROADWAY, 

AND  16  LITTLE  BRITAIN,  LONDON. 

M  DCCC  LV1I. 

an 


THE 

CANTERBURY   TALES. 


THE   PROLOGUE. 

1—8. 

Whanne  that  April  with  his  shcmres  sote1 
The  droughts  of  March  hath  perccd  to  the  rote, 
And  bathed  every  veine  in  swiche8  licour, 
Of  whiche  vertue  engendred  is  the  flour ; 
Wlian  Zephirus  eke  with  his  sote  brethe 
Enspired  hath  in  every  holt3  and  hetlie 
The  tendre  croppes,  and  the  yonge  sonne 
Hath  in  the  Earn4  his  halfe  cours  yronne, 

1  Sweet.  *  Such.  s  Grove. 

4  It  seems  to  have  been  the  intention  of  Chancer,  in  the  first  lines  ot 
the  Prologue,  to  mark  with  some  exactness  the  time  of  his  supposed 
pilgrimage;  but  unluckily  the  two  circumstances  of  his  description, 
which  were  most  likely  to  answer  that  purpose,  are  each  of  them  irre- 
concilable to  the  other.  When  he  tells  us  that  "  the  shoures  of  April 
had  paced  to  the  rote  the  drought  of  March,"  we  must  suppose,  in  order 
to  allow  due  time  for  such  an  operation,  that  April  was  far  advanced ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  place  of  the  sun,  "  having  just  run  half  his 
course  in  the  Ram,"  restrains  us  to  some  day  in  the  very  latter  end  of 
March ;  as  the  vernal  equinox,  in  the  age  of  Chaucer,  according  to  his 
own  treatise  on  the  Astrolabe,  was  computed  to  happen  on  the  12th  of 
March.  This  difficulty  may,  and  I  think  should,  be  removed  by  reading 
in  ver.  8,  the  Bull,  instead  of  the  Bam.  All  the  parts  of  the  description 
will  then  be  consistent." — Tyrwhitt. 

An  ingenious  writer  (to  whom  we  shall  hereafter  be  frequently  indebted), 
in  Notes  and  Queries,  v.  iii.  p.  3 1C,  has  opposed  this  conjecture,  remarking, 
that  "  there  are  ho  less  than  two  ways  of  understanding  the  seventh  and 
eighth  lines  of  the  Prologue  so  as  to  be  perfectly  in  accordance  with  the 
rest  of  the  description.  One  of  these  would  be  to  suppose  the  sign  Aries 
divided  into  two  portions  (not  necessarily  equal  in  the  phraseology  of 
the  time),  one  of  which  would  appertain  to  March  and  the  other  to 
April;  and  that  Chaucer,  by  the  'halfe  cours  yronne,' meant  the  last, 
or  the  April,  half  of  the  sign  Aries.    But  I  think  a  more  probable  sup- 

1 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 


9-24. 


And  smale  foules1  maken  melodie, 

That  slepen  alle  night  with  open  eye, 

So  priketh  hem  nature  in  hir  corages ; 

Than  longen  folk  to  gon  on  pilgrimages, 

And  palmeres  for  to  seken  strange  strondes, 

To  serve  halwes  couthe2  in  sondry  londes; 

And  specially,  from  every  shires  ende 

Of  Englelond,  to  Canterbury  they  wende, 

The  holy  blisful  martyr  for  to  seke, 

That  hem  hath  holpen,  whan  that  they  were  seke. 

Befelle,  that,  in  that  seson  on  a  day, 
In  Southwerk  at  the  Tabard3  as  I  lay, 
Redy  to  wenden  on  my  pilgrimage 
To  Canterbury  with  devoute  corage, 
At  night  was  come  into  that  hostelrie 
Wei  nine  and  twenty  in  a  compaguie 


position  still  would  be  to  imagine  the  month  of  April,  of  which  Chancer 
was  speaking,  to  be  divided  into  two  'halfe  cours,'  in  one  of  which  the 
sun  would  be  in  Aries,  and  in  the  other  in  Taurus ;  and  that  when 
Chaucer  says  that  'the  yonge  sonne  had  in  the  Ram  his  halfe  cours 
yronne,'  he  meant  that  the  Ariet  half  of  the  month  of  April  had  been  ran 
through,  thereby  indicating,  in  general  terms,  some  time  approaching  to 
the  middle  of  April."  The  same  writer  observes,  that  "  the  whole  of  the 
opening  of  the  Prologue,  down  to  verse  19,  is  descriptive,  not  of  any  par- 
ticular days,  but  of  the  usual  season  of  pilgrimages ;  and  Chaucer  himself 
plainly  declares,  by  the  words  '  in  that  season,  on  a  day,'  that  the  day  is 
at  yet  indefinite."  See  also,  Hid.,  p.  515,  and  the  note  on  v.  17,322. 
1  Birds.  2  Known. 

•  They  who  are  disposed  to  believe  the  pilgrimage  to  have  been  real, 
and  to  have  happened  in  1383,  may  support  their  opinion  by  the  follow- 
ing inscription,  which  is  still  to  be  read  upon  the  inn,  now  called  the 
Talbot,  in  Southwark :  "  This  is  the  Inn  where  Sir  Jeffrey  Chaucer  and 
the  twenty-nine  Pilgrims  lodged  in  their  journey  to  Canterbury,  Anno 
1383."  Though  the  present  inscription  is  evidently  of  a  very  recent 
date,  we  might  suppose  it  to  have  been  propagated  to  ns  by  a  succession 
of  faithful  transcripts  from  the  very  time ;  but  unluckily  there  is  too  good 
reason  to  be  assured  that  the  first  inscription  of  this  sort  was  not  earlier 
than  the  last  century.  Mr.  Speght,  who  appears  to  have  been  inquisitive 
concerning  this  inn  in  1597,  has  left  us  this  account  of  it  in  his  Glossary, 
v.  Tabard :  "  A  jaquet,  or  slevelesse  coate,  worne  in  times  past  by  noble- 
men in  the  warres,  but  now  onely  by  heraults,  and  is  called  theyrc  coate 
of  armes  in  servise.  It  is  the  signe  of  an  inne  in  Southwarke  by  London, 
within  the  which  was  the  lodging  of  the  Abbot  of  Hyde  by  Winchester. 
This  is  the  hostelry  where  Chaucer  and  the  other  pilgrims  mett  together, 
and,  with  Henry  Baily  their  hoste,  accorded  about  the  manner  of  their 
journey  to  Canterbury.  Atid  whereas  through  time  it  hath  bin  much 
decaied,  it  is  now  by  Master  J.  Preston,  with  the  abbot's  house  thereto 


25-44.  THE  PROLOGUE.  3 

Of  sondry  folk,  by  aventure  yfalle 
In  felawship,  and  pilgrimes  were  they  alle, 
That  toward  Canterbury  wolden  ride. 
The  chambres  and  the  stables  weren  wide, 
And  wel  we  weren  esed2  atte  beste. 

And  shortly,  whan  the  sonne  was  gon  to  reste, 
So  hadde  I  spoken  with  hem  everich  on,3 
That  I  was  of  hir4  felawship  anon, 
And  made  forword  erly  for  to  rise, 
To  take  oure  way  ther  as  I  you  devise. 

But  natheles,  while  I  have  time  and  space. 
Or  that  I  forther  in  this  tale  pace, 
Me  thinketh  it  accordant  to  reson, 
To  tellen  you  alle  the  condition 
Of  eche  of  hem,  so  as  it  semed  me, 
And  whiche  they  weren,  and  of  what  degre ; 
And  eke  in  what  araie  that  they  were  inne : 
And  at  a  knight  than  wol  I  firste  beginne. 

A  knights  ther  was,  and  that  a  worthy  man," 
That  fro  the  time  that  he  firste  began 

adjoined,  newly  repaired,  and  with  convenient  roomes  much  encreased, 
for  the  receipt  of  many  guests." 

If  any  inscription  of  this  kind  had  then  been  there,  he  would  hardly 
have  omitted  to  mention  it;  and  therefore  I  am  persuaded  it  has  been 
put  up  since  his  time,  and  most  probably  when  the  sign  was  changed 
from  the  Tabard  to  the  Talbot,  in  order  to  preserve  the  ancient  glory  of 
the  house,  notwithstanding  its  new  title.  Whoever  furnished  the  date, 
must  be  allowed  to  have  at  least  invented  plausibly. 

While  I  am  upon  the  subject  of  this  famous  hostelry,!  will  just  add, 
that  it  was  probably  parcel  of  two  tenements  which  appear  to  have  been 
conveyed  by  William  de  Ludegarsale  to  the  abbot,  &c.  de  ffydd  juxta 
Winton,  in  1306,  and  which  are  described,  in  a  former  conveyance  there 
recited,  to  extend  in  length,  "  a  communi  fossato  de  Suthwerke  versus 
Orientem,  usque  Regiam  viam  de  Suthwerke  versus  Occidentem." — Re- 
gistrumde  Hyde,  MS.  Harl.  1761.  fol.  166 — 173.  If  we  should  ever  be 
so  happy  as  to  recover  the  account-books  of  the  Abbey  of  Hyde,  we  may 
possibly  learn  what  rent  Harry  Bailly  paid  for  his  inn,  and  many  other 
important  particulars. — Tyrwhitt. 

1  Fallen.        2  Accommodated.        3  Every  one  of  them.         4  Their. 

s  Why  Chaucer  should  have  chosen  to  bring  his  knight  from  Alex- 
andria  and  Lettotce  rather  than  from  Cresty  and  Poitiers,  is  a  problem 
difficult  to  resolve,  except  by  supposing  that  the  slightest  services 
against  infidels  were  in  those  days  more  honourable  than  the  most 
splendid  victories  over  Cliristians. — Tyrw/iitt. 

B2 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  45-72- 

To  riden  out,  he  loved  chevalrie, 
Trouthe  and  honour,  fredom  and  curtesie. 
Ful  worthy  was  he  in  his  lordes  wcrre, 
And  therto  hadde  he  ridden,  no  mnn  ferre,1 
As  wel  in  Cristendom  as  in  Hethenosse, 
And  ever  honoured  for  his  worthinesse. 

At  Alisandre  he  was  whan  it  was  wonne.9 
Ful  often  time  he  hadde  the  bord  begonne3 
Aboven  alle  nations  in  Pruce. 
In  Lettowe  hadde  he  reysed4  and  in  Ruce, 
No  cristen  man  so  ofte  of  his  degre. 
In  Gernades  at  the  siege  eke  hadde  he  be 
Of  Algesir,  and  ridden  in  Belmarie.6 
At  Leyes*  was  he,  and  at  Satalies, 
Whan  they  were  wonne ;  and  in  the  Grete  see9 
At  many  a  noble  armee  hadde  he  be. 
At  mortal  batailles  hadde  he  ben  fiftene, 
And  foughten  for  our  faith  at  Tramisseno 
In  listes  thries,  and  ay  slain  his  fo. 

This  ilke  worthy  knight  hadde  ben  also 
Somtime  with  the  lord  of  Palatie,10 
A  gen  another  hethen  in  Turkie: 
And  evermore  he  hadde  a  sovereine  pris. 
And  though  that  he  was  worthy  he  was  wise, 
And  of  his  port  as  meke  as  is  a  mayde. 
He  never  yet  no  vilanie  ne  sayde 
In  alle  his  lif,  unto  no  manere"  wight. 
He  was  a  veray  parfit  gentil  knight. 


Farther.    So  detre  for  dearer,  v.  1450. 

2  J.  e.,  in  a.d.  1365,  by  Pierre  de  Lusignan,  King  of  Cyprus,  who,  how- 
ever, immediately  abandoned  it. 

3  /.  e.,  he  had  been  placed  at  the  head  of  the  table  ;  the  usual  compliment 
to  extraordinary  merit.  When  our  military  men  wanted  employment, 
it  was  usual  for  them  to  go  and  serve  in  Pruse,  or  Prussia,  with  the 
knights  of  the  Teutonic  order,  who  were  in  a  state  of  constant  warfare 
with  their  heathen  neighbours  in  Lettow  ( Lithuania),  Rute  (Russia),  and 
elsewhere.  A  pagan  King  of  Lettow  is  mentioned  by  Walsingham,  pp. 
180,343. — Tyrwhitt.  4  Journeyed. 

5  The  city  of  Algezir  was  taken  from  the  Moorish  King  of  Granada 
in  1344.  6  Probably  in  Africa. 

7  Layas,  in  Armenia.  8  Attalia. 

9  Better,  the  "  Grekish  sea,"  t.  e.,  the  part  of  the  Mediterranean,  from 
Sicily  to  Cyprus.     See  Tyrwhitfa  notes. 

lu  Palathia,  in  Anatolia.  n  Meaner,  inferior. 


73-102.  THE  rilOLOGUE.  5 

But  for  to  tollen  you  of  his  araie, 
His  hors  was  good,  but  he  ne  was  not  gaie. 
Of  fustian  he  wered  a  gipon,1 
Alle  besmotred2  with  his  habergeon, 
For  he  was  late  ycomc  fro  his  viage,3 
And  wente  for  to  don  his  pilgrimage. 

With  him  ther  was  his  sone  a  yonge  squier, 
A  lover,  and  a  lusty  bacheler, 
"With  lockes  crull4  as  they  were  laide  in  presse. 
Of  twenty  yere  of  age  he  was  I  gesse. 
Of  his  stature  he  was  of  even  lengthe, 
And  wonderly  deliver,5  and  grete  oi  strengthe. 
And  he  hadde  be  somtime  in  chevachie, 
In  Flaundres,  in  Artois,  and  in  Picardie, 
And  borne  him  wel,  as  of  so  litel  space, 
In  hope  to  stonden  in  his  ladies  grace. 

Embrouded  was  he,  as  it  were  a  mede 
Alle  ful  of  freshe  fluures,  white  and  rede. 
Singing  he  was,  or  fioyting0  alle  the  day, 
He  was  as  freshe,  as  is  the  moneth  of  May. 
Short  was  his  goune,  with  sieves  long  and  wide. 
Wel  coude  he  sitte  on  hors,  and  fayre  ride. 
He  coude  songes  make,  and  wel  endite, 
Juste  and  eke  dance,  and  wel  pourtraie  and  write. 
So  hote  he  loved,  that  by  nightertale7 
He  slep  no  more  than  doth  the  nightingale. 

Curteis  he  was,  lowly,  and  servisable, 
And  carf  before  his  fader  at  the  table.s 

A  yeman4  hadde  he,  and  servantes  no  mo 
At  that  time,  for  him  luste  to  ride  so ; 

*  A  short  cassock.  a  Smutted.  3  Journey.       *  Curled. 

6  Agile,  nimble.  6  Playing  on  the  flute.  1  Night  time. 

8  It  was  anciently  the  custom  for  squires,  of  the  highest  quality,  to 
carve  at  the  sires'  tables. 

9  Yeman,  or  yeoman,  is  an  abbreviation  of  yeongeman,  as  youthe  is  of 
yeongthe.  Young  men  being  most  usually  employed  in  service,  servants 
have,  in  many  languages,  been  denominated  from  the  single  circum- 
stance of  age ;  as  jjuer,  garcon,  boy,  groom.  As  a  title  of  service  or 
office,  yoman  i3  used  in  the  Stat.  37  E.  III.  c.  9  and  1 !,  to  denote  a 
servant  of  the  next  degree  above  a  garson,  or  groom;  and  at  this  day,  in 
several  departments  of  the  royal  household,  the  attendants  are  distri- 
buted into  three  classes  of  Serjeants  or  sguiers,  yeomen,  and  grooms,—' 
Tyrwhilt, 

1* 


6  THE  CANTERBUKY  TALES.  103-136. 

And  he  was  cladde  in  cote  and  hode  of  grene. 
A  shefe  of  peacock  arwes1  bright  and  keno 
Under  his  belt  he  bare  ful  thriftily. 
Wei  coude  he  dresse  his  takel2  yemanly: 
His  arwes  drouped  not  with  fetheres  lowe. 
And  in  his  hond  he  bare  a  mighty  bowe. 

A  not-hed3  hadde  he,  with  a  broune  visage. 
Of  wood-craft  coude  he  wel  alle  the  usage. 
Upon  his  arme  he  bare  a  gaie  bracer, 
And  by  his  side  a  swerd  and  a  bokeler, 
And  on  that  other  side  a  gaie  daggere, 
Earneised  wel,  and  sharpe  as  point  of  spere: 
A  Cristofre*  on  his  brest  of  silver  shene. 
An  horne  he  bare,  the  baudrik  was  of  grene. 
A  forster  was  he  sothely  as  I  gesse. 

There  was  also  a  Nonne,  a  Prioresse, 
That  of  hire  smiling  was  ful  simple  and  coy; 
Hire  gretest  othe  n'as  but  by  Seint  Eloy; 
And  she  was  cleped  madame  Eglentine. 
Ful  wel  she  sange  the  service  devine, 
Entuned  in  hire  nose  ful  swetely ; 
And  Frenche  she  spake  ful  fayre  and  fetisly,8 
After  the  scole  of  Stratford  atte  bowe, 
For  Frenche  of  Paris6  was  to  hire  unknowe. 
At  mete  was  she  wel  ytaughte  withalle ; 
She  lette  no  morsel  from  hire  lippes  falle, 
Ne  wette  hire  fingres  in  hire  sauce  depe. 
Wel  coude  she  carie  a  morsel,  and  wel  kepe, 
Thatte  no  drope  ne  fell  upon  hire  brest. 
In  curtesie  was  sette  ful  moche  hire  lest.' 
Hire  over  lippe  wiped  she  so  clene, 
That  in  hire  cuppe  was  no  ferthing  sene 
Of  grese,  whan  she  dronken  hadde  hire  draught. 
Ful  semely  after  hire  mete  she  raught. 

1  Arrows  with  peacock  feathers.  3  Arrow. 

3  /.  e.  round,  like  a  nut,  probably  from  being  cropped. 

*  I  do  not  see  the  meaning  of  this  ornament.  By  the  stat.  37  E.  III. 
pomen  are  forbidden  to  wear  any  ornaments  of  gold  or  silver. — Tyrwhitt. 

8  Neatly,  cleverly. 

*  It  has  been  mentioned  before,  that  Chancer  thought  but  meanly  of 
the  English-French  spoken  in  his  time.  It  was  proper,  however,  that 
the  prioresse  should  speak  some  sort  of  French  ;  not  only  as  a  woman 
of  fashion,  a  character  which  she  is  represented  to  affect,  ver.  139,  110, 
but  as  a  religious  person. — Tyrwhitt.  1  Delight,  pleasure. 


137-168.  THE  PROLOGUE.  7 

And  sikerly  she  was  of  grete  disport, 
And  fid  plesant,  and  amiable  of  port, 
And  peined  hire  to  contrefeten1  chere 
Of  court,  and  ben  estatelich  of  manere, 
And  to  ben  holden  digne  of  reverence. 

But  for  to  speken  of  hire  conscience, 
She  was  so  charitable  and  so  pitous, 
She  wolde  wepe  if  that  she  saw  a  mous 
Caughte  in  a  trappe,  if  it  were  ded  or  bledde. 
Of  smale  houndes  hadde  she,  that  she  fedde 
With  rosted  flesh,  and  milk,  and  wastel  brede. 
But  sore  wept  she  if  on  of  hem  were  dede, 
Or  if  men  smote  it  with  a  yerde2  smert."3 
And  all  was  conscience  and  tendre  herte. 

Ful  semely  hire  wimple4  ypinched  was ; 
Hire  nose  tretis  f  hire  eyen  grey  as  glas ; 
Hire  mouth  ful  smale,  and  therto  soft  and.  red; 
But  sikerly  she  hadde  a  fayre  forehed. 
It  was  almost  a  spanne  brode  I  trowe ; 
For  hardily  she  was  not  undergrowe. 

Full  fetise6  was  hire  cloke,  as  I  was  ware. 
Of  smale  corall  aboute  hire  arm  she  bare 
A  pair  of  bedes,  gauded7  all  with  grene ; 
And  theron  heng  a  broche  of  gold  ful  shene, 
On  whiche  was  first  ywriten  a  crouned  A, 
And  after,  Amor  vincit  omnia. 

Another  Nonne  also  with  hire  hadde  she,8 
That  was  hire  chapelleine,  and  Preestes  thre. 

A  Monk  ther  was,  a  fayre9  for  the  maistrie, 
An  out-rider,  that  loved  venerie  ;10 
A  manly  man,  to  ben  an  abbot  able. 
Ful  many  a  deinte  hors  hadde  he  in  stable: 

*  She  took  great  pains  to  assume.  2  A  stick.  3  Hardly. 

*  A  covering  for  the  neck.  5  Long  and  well  proportioned. 

*  Neat,  tasteful.  7  Decked. 

8  This  and  the  following  line  have  been  condemned  by  Tyrwhitt  as 
spurious.    See  his  Discourse,  p.  78. 

9  We  should  say,  a  fair  one;  but  in  Chaucer's  time  such  tautology 
was  not,  I  suppose,  elegant.     So  below,  ver.  189 : 

Therfore  he  was  a  prickasoure  a  right. 
As  to  the  phrase  for  the  maistrie,  I  take  it  to  be  derived  from  the 
French  pour  la  maistrie,  which  I  find,  in  an  old  book  of  Physick,  applied 
to  such  medicines  as  we  usually  call  Sovereign,  excellent  above  all  others. 
MS.  Bod.  761.  Secreta  h.Samp  de  Clowburnel,  fol.  17  b.  Ciroigne  bone 
pur  la  maistrie  a  briser  et  a  meurer  apost ernes,  &c. — Tyrwhitt. 
10  Hunting. 


O  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  169-183. 

And  whan  he  rode,  men  mighte  his  bridcl  here 
Gingeling  in  a  whistling  wind  as  clere, 
And  eke  as  loude,  as  doth  the  chapel  1  belle, 
Ther  as  this  lord  was  keper  of  the  celle. 

The  reule  of  seint  Maure  and  6i  seint  Beneit> 
Because  that  it  was  olde  and  somdele  streit, 
This  ilke  monk  lette  olde  thinges  pace, 
And  held  after  the  newe  world  the  trace. 
He  yave  not  of  the  text  a  pulled  hen,1 
That  saith,  that  hunters  ben  not  holy  men; 
Ne  that  a  monk,  whan  he  is  rekkeles,3 
Is  like  to  a  fish  that  is  waterles ; 
This  is  to  say,  a  monk  out  of  his  cloistre. 
This  ilke  text  held  he  not  worth  an  oistre. 
And  I  say  his  opinion  was  good. 
What  shulde  he  studie,  and  make  himselven  wood, 
Upon  a  book  in  cloistre  alway  to  pore, 
Or  swinken  with  his  hondes,  and  laboure, 
As  Austin  bit  I3  how  shal  the  world  be  served? 
Let  Austin  have  his  swink4  to  him  reserved. 
Therfore  he  was  a  prickasoure5  a  right : 
Greihoundes  he  hadde  as  swift  as  foul  of  flight: 
Of  pricking  and  of  hunting  for  the  hare 
Was  all  his  lust,  for  no  cost  wolde  he  spare. 

1  /.  e.,  he  cared  not  a  straw.  One  BIS.  reads  apullethen,  which  seems 
more  intelligible,  unless  it  refer  to  the  supposition  that  a  plucked  hen 
cannot  lay  eggs. —  Tyrvshitt,  gl. 

2  Eekkcles  MS.  C.  reads  Cloisterles;  to  which  the  only  objection  is, 
that  if  it  had  been  the  true  reading  there  would  have  been  no  occasion 
to  explain  or  paraphrase  it  in  ver.  181.  The  text  alluded  to  is  attributed 
by  Gratian,  Decret.  P.  ii.  Cau.  xvi.  Q.  I.  c.  viii.  to  a  Pope  Eugenius. — 
Sicut  pisris  sine  aqua  caret  vita,  ila  sine  monasterio  monachus.  In  P.  P., 
according  to  MS.  Cotton.  Vesp.  B.  xvi.  (for  the  passage  is  omitted  in  the 
printed  editions),  a  similar  saying  is  quoted  from  Gregory. 

Gregori  the  grete  clerk  garte  write  in  bokes 

The  rcwle  of  alle  religiouu  riytful  and  obedient 

Eiyt  as  fishes  in  a  flod  whan  hem  faileth  water 

Deien  for  drowthe  whan  thci  drie  liggen 

Riyt  so  religious  roten  and  sterven 

That  out  of  covent  or  cloistre  coveiten  to  dwelle. 

As  the  known  senses  of  relckeles,  viz.,  careless,  negligent,  by  no  means 
suit  with  this  passage,  I  am  inclined  to  suspect  that  Chaucer  possibly 
wrote  reghelles,  i.  e.,  without  rule.  Iiegol,  from  Regula,  was  the  Saxon 
word  for  a  rule,  and  particularly  for  a  monastic  rule. — Tyrwhitt. 

3  Biddeth.  *  Labour. 

*  A  hard  rider,  from  prick,  to  spur  on  a  horse. 


193-230.  THE  PJROLOGUE.  & 

I  saw  his  sieves  purfiled  at  the  hond 
With  gris,1  and  that  the  finest  of  the  lond. 
And  for  to  iasten  his  hood  under  his  chinne, 
He  hadde  of  gold  ywrought  a  curious  pinne : 
A  love-knotte  in  the  greter  end  ther  was. 
His  hed  was  balled,  and  shone  as  any  glas, 
And  eke  his  face,  as  it  hadde  ben  anoint. 
He  was  a  lord  ful  fat  and  in  good  point. 
His  cyen  stepe,2  and  rolling  in  his  hed, 
That  stemed  as  a  forneis  of  a  led. 
His  botes  souple,  his  hors  in  gret  estat, 
Now  certainly  he  was  a  fayre  prelat. 
He  was  not  pale  as  a  forpined^  gost. 
A  fat  swan  loved  he  best  of  any  rost. 
His  palfrey  was  as  broune  as  is  a  bery. 

A  Frere  ther  was,  a  wanton  and  a  mery, 
A  Limitour,4  a  ful  solernpne  man. 
In  all  the  ordres  foure  is  non  that  can 
So  moche  of  daliance  and  fayro  langage. 
He  hadde  ymade  ful  many  a  ruariage 
Of  yonge  wimmen,  at  his  owen  cost. 
Until  his  ordre  he  was  a  noble  post.] 
Ful  wel  beloved,  and  familier  was  he 
With  frankeleins5  over  all  in  his  contree, 
And  eke  with  worthy  wimmen  of  the  toun: 
For  he  had  power  of  confession, 
As  saide  himselfe,  more  than  a  curat, 
For  of  his  ordre  he  was  licenciat. 
Ful  swetely  herde  he  confession, 
And  plesant  was  his  absolution. 
He  was  an  esy  man  to  give  penance, 
Ther  as  he  wiste  to  han  a  good  pitance : 
For  unto  a  poure  ordre  for  to  give 
Is  signe  that  a  man  is  wel  yshrive. 
For  if  he  gave,  he  dorste  make  avant,8 
He  wiste  that  a  man  was  repentant. 
For  many  a  man  so  hard  is  of  his  herte, 
He  may  not  wepe  although  him  sore  smcrte. 

1  The  habit  of  wearing  fur  trimmings  was  forbidden  the  monks  by 
Cardinal  Wolsey,  in  1519. 

2  Sunk  deep  in  his  head.  3  Wasted,  tormented. 
4  /.  e.,  one  licensed  to  beg  within  a  certain  district. 

'  Wealthy  landholders  j  country  gentlemen  of  good  estate.        6  Boast. 


10  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  231-268. 

Therfore  in  stede  of  weping  and  praieres, 
Men  mote  give  silver  to  the  poure  freres. 

His  tippet  was  ay  farsed1  ful  of  knives, 
And  pinnes,  for  to  given  fayre  wives. 
And  certainly  he  hadde  a  mery  note. 
Wei  coude  he  singe  and  plaien  on  a  rote.9 
Of  yeddinges3  he  bare  utterly  the  pris. 
His  nekke  was  white  as  the  flour  de  lis. 
Therto  he  strong  was  as  a  champioun, 
And  knew  wel  the  tavernes  in  every  toun, 
And  every  hosteler  and  gay  tapstere, 
Better  than  a  lazar  or  a  beggere, 
For  unto  swiche  a  worthy  man  as  he 
Accordeth  nought,  as  by  his  faculte, 
To  haven  with  sike  lazars  acquaintance. 
It  is  not  honest,  it  may  not  avance, 
As  for  to  delen  with  no  swiche  pouraille,4 
But  all  with  riche,  and  sellers  of  vitaille. 

And  over  all,  ther  as  profit  shuld  arise, 
Curteis  he  was,  and  lowly  of  serviae. 
Ther  n'as  no  man  nowher  so  vertuous. 
He  was  the  beste  begger  in  all  his  hous: 
And  gave  a  certaine  ferme  for  the  grant, 
Non  of  his  bretheren  came  in  his  haunt. 
For  though  a  widewe  hadde  but  a  shoo, 
(So  plesant  was  his  In  principiof 
Yet  wold  he  have  a  ferthing  or  he  went. 
His  pourchas  was  wel  better  than  his  rent. 
And  rage  he  coude  as  it  hadde  ben  a  whelp, 
In  lovedayes,6  ther  coude  he  mochel  help. 
For  ther  was  he  nat  like  a  cloisterere, 
With  thredbare  cope,  as  is  a  poure  scolere, 
But  he  was  like  a  maister  or  a  pope. 
Of  double  worsted  was  his  semicope, 
That  round  was  as  a  belle  out  of  the  presse. 
Somwhat  he  lisped  for  his  wantonnesse, 
To  make  his  English  swete  upon  his  tonge ; 
And  in  his  harping,  whan  that  he  hadde  songe, 

i  Stuffed.  2  By  rote,  by  heart.  3  A  kind  of  song. 

*  I.  e.,  commonalty,  poor  people. 

5  The  beginning  of  the  Latin  text  either  of  Genesis  or  of  St.  John's 
Gospel. 

6  Days  appointed  for  the  amicable  settlement  or  arbitration  of  dif- 
ferences. 


869-298.  THE  PROLOGUE.  11 

His  eyen  twinkeled  in  his  hed  aright, 
As  don  the  sterres  in  a  frosty  night. 
This  worthy  limitour  was  cleped  Huberd. 

A  Marchant  was  ther  with  a  forked  berd, 
In  mottelee,1  and  highe  on  hors  he  sat, 
And  on  his  hed  a  Flaundrish  bever  hat. 
His  botes  elapsed  fayre  and  fetisly. 
His  resons  spake  he  ful  solempnely, 
Souning2  alway  the  encrese  of  his  winning. 
He  wold  the  see  were  kept3  for  anything 
Betwixen  Middelburgh  and  Orewell.4 
Wei  coud  he  in  eschanges  sheldes5  selle. 
This  worthy  man  ful  wel  his  wit  besette  ; 
Ther  wiste  no  wight  that  he  was  in  dette, 
So  stedefastly  didde  he  his  governance, 
With  his  bargeines,  and  with  his  chevisance.* 
Forsothe  he  was  a  worthy  man  withalle, 
But  soth  to  sayn,  I  n'ot  how  men  him  calle. 

A  Clerk  ther  was  of  Oxenforde  also, 
That  unto  logike  hadde  long  ygo. 
As  lene  was  his  hors  as  is  a  rake, 
And  he  was  not  right  fat,  I  undertake ; 
But  loked  holwe,  and  therto  soberly. 
Ful  thredbare  was  his  overest  courtepy,7 
For  he  hadde  geten  him  yet  no  benefice, 
Ne  was  nought  worldly  to  have  an  office. 
For  him  was  lever  han8  at  his  beedes  hed 
A  twenty  bokes,  clothed  in  black  or  red, 
Of  Aristotle,  and  his  philosophic, 
Than  robes  riche,  or  fidel,  or  sautrie.9 

1  Mixed,  various  colours,  motley.  2  Sounding. 

8  Guarded.  The  old  subsidy  of  tonnage  and  poundage  was  given  to 
the  king  pur  la  tauf  garde  et  cuttodie  del  mer,  12  E.  IV.  C.  3. — Tyrtehitt. 

4  A  seaport  in  Essex. 
3  French  crowns,  so  called  from  their  having  a  shield  stamped  on  one 
side.  °  An  arrangement  for  borrowing  money. 

7  A  sort  of  short  upper  cloak.  8  /.  e.,  he  had  rather,  he  preferred. 

9  Psaltery.  It  may  be  observed,  that  although  organ-builders  have 
introduced  reed  stops,  purporting  to  represent  the  sacbut,  clarion, 
psaltery,  slialm,  and  other  instruments  mentioned  in  Scripture,  we  are 
totally  ignorant  what  they  were.  The  psaltery  was  probably  a  stringed 
instrument,  and  perhaps  the  same  as  the  "rote"  spoken  of  elsewhere. 


12  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  299-338. 

But  all  be  that  he  was  a  philosophre, 

Yet  hadde  he  but  litel  gold  in  cofre, 

But  all  that  he  might  of  his  frendes  hente,1 

On  bokes  and  on  lerning  he  it  spente, 

And  besily  gan  for  the  soules  praie 

Of  hem,  that  yave  him  wherwith  to  scolaie.* 

Oi  studie  toke  he  moste  cure  and  hede. 

Not  a  word  spake  he  more  than  was  nede ; 

And  that  was  said  in  forme  and  reverence, 

And  short  and  quike,  and  ful  of  nigh  sentence. 

Souning  in  moral  vertue  was  his  speche, 

And  gladly  wolde  he  lerne,  and  gladly  teche. 

A  sergeant  of  the  lawe  ware  and  wise, 
That  often  hadde  yben  at  the  paruis, 
Ther  was  also,  ful  riche  of  excellence. 
Discrete  he  was,  and  oi  gret  reverence: 
He  semed  swiche,3  his  wordes  were  so  wise. 
Justice  he  was  ful  often  in  assise, 
By  patent,  and  by  pleine  commissioun;  . 

For  his  science,  and  for  his  high  renoun, 
Of  fees  and  robes  had  he  many  on. 
So  grete  a  pourchasour  was  nowher  non. 
All  was  fee  simple  to  him  in  effect, 
His  pourchasing  might  not  beu  in  suspect. 
Nowher  so  besy  a  man  as  he  ther  n'as, 
And  yet  he  semed  besier  than  he  was. 
In  termes  hadde  he  cas  and  domes4  alle, 
That  fro  the  time  of  king  Will,  weren  falle. 
Therto  he  coude  endite,  and  make  a  thing, 
Ther  coude  no  wight  pinche  at  his  writing. 
And  every  statute  coude  he  plaine  by  rote. 
He  rode  but  homely  in  a  medlee  cote, 
Girt  with  a  seint  of  silk,  with  barres'  smale; 
Of  his  array  tell  I  no  lenger  tale. 

A  frankelein  was  in  this  compagnie; 
White  was  his  berd,  as  is  the  dayesie. 
Of  his  complexion  he  was  sanguin. 
Wei  loved  he  by  the  morwe'  a  sop  in  win. 
To  liven  in  delit  was  ever  his  wone, 
For  he  was  Epicures  owen  sone, 

Get.  2  To  attend  school.  3  Such. 

Opinions.  5  Stripes.  6  Morning. 


339-362.  THE  PROLOGUE.  13 

That  held  opinion,  that  plein  delifc 
Was  veraily  felicite  parfite. 
An  housholder,  and  that  a  grete1  was  he ; 
Seint  Julian2  he  was  in  his  contree, 
His  brede,  his  ale,  was  alway  after  on  f 
A  better  envyned4  man  was  no  wher  non. 
Withouten  bake  mete  never  was  his  hous, 
Of  fish  and  flesh,  and  that  so  plenteous, 
It  snewed  in  his  hous  of  mete  and  drinke, 
Of  alle  deintees  that  men  coud  of  thinke, 
After  the  sondry  sesons  of  the  yere, 
So  changed  he  his  mete  and  his  soupere. 
Fill  many  a  fat  partrich  hadde  he  in  me  we, 

any  a  breme,  and  many  a  luce5  in  stewe. 
^^jfl^p  was  his  coke,  but  if6  his  sauce  were 
minant  and  sharpe,  and  redy  all  his  gere. 
I  lis  table  dormant  in  his  halle  alway 
jrlStode  redy  covered  alle  the  longe  flay. 
At  sessions  ther  was  he  lord  and  sire. 
Ful  often  time  he  was  knight  of  the  shire. 
An  anelace7  and  a  gipciere8  all  of  silk, 
Heng  at  his  girdel,  white  as  morwe9  milk. 
A  shereve  hadde  he  ben,  and  a  countour.10 
Was  no  wher  swiche  a  worthy  vavasour.11 

1  I.e.,  a  great  one. 

'*  St.  Julian  was  eminent  for  providing  his  votaries  with  good  lrt*g*ngji 
Wad  accommodation  of  all  sorts.     In  the  title  of  his  Legend*,  M.S.  /.W. 
P.fbl-4,  he  is  called  "St.  Julian,  the  godc  hci  berjour."   It  ends  thus  ; 
Therfore  yet  to  this  day  thei  that  over  loml  wende, 
Thei  biddeth  Seint  Julian  anon  that  gode  hcrborw  he  hem  sende, 
And  Seint  Julianes  Pater  noster  ofte  seggeth  also, 
For  his  fader  soule  and  his  moderes,  that  he  hem  bring  therto. 

Tynrhil't. 
St.  Julian  was  a  patron  of  pilgrims,  and  also  of  lenones.    See  Brando 
■ferities,  v.  i.  p.  359,  of  Sir  Henry  Ellis's  edition. 
I  One  o'clock.  4  Better  stocked  with  wine.  6  Pike. 

*  /.  e.  if  it  were'not. 

J  A  kind  of  knife  or  dagger,  usually  worn  at  the  waist. 
.*  A  purse.  9  Morning. 

,0  This  word  has  been  changed  in  Ed.  Urr.,  upon  what  authority  I 
know  not,  to  Coroner.  The  MSS.  all  read  Countour,  or  comptour.  At 
the  same  time  it  is  not  easy  to  say  what  office  is  meant.  I  have  a  not  ion, 
that  the  foreman  of  the  inquest  in  the  Hundred-court  was  called  a 
Countour;  but  the  law  glossaries  do  not  take  notice  of  any  such  sense 
Of  the  word. — Tyrwhitt. 

11  A  kind  of  middle-class  landholder.    See  Tyrwhitt. 
2 


14  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  363-386. 

An  haberdasher,  and  a  carpenter, 
A  webbe,1  a  deyer,  and  a  tapiser,2 
Were  alle  yclothed  in  o  livere, 
Of  a  solempne  and  grete  fraternite.8 
Ful  freshe  and  newe  hir  gere  ypiked  was. 
Hir  knives  were  ychaped  not  with  bras, 
But  all  with  silver  wrought  ful  clene  and  wel, 
Hir  girdeles  and  hir  pouches  every  del4. 
Wel  semed  eche  of  hem  a  fayre  burgeis, 
To  sitten  in  a  gild  halle,  on  the  deis.8 
Everich,6  for  the  wisdom  that  he  can, 
Was  shapelich  for  to  ben  an  alderman. 
For  catel  hadden  they  ynongh  and  rent, 
And  eke  hir  wives  wolde  it  wel  assent: 
And  elles7  certainly  they  were  to  blame. 
It  is  ful  fayre  to  ben  ycleped  madame, 
And  for  to  gon  to  vigiles  all  before, 
And  have  a  mantel  reallich8  ybore. 

A  coke  they  hadden  with  hem  for  the  nones,9 
To  boile  the  chikenes  and  the  marie  bones, 
And  poudre  marchant,  tart  and  galingale,10 
Wel  coude  he  knowe  a  draught  of  London  ale. 
He  coude  roste,  and  sethe,  and  broile,  and  frie, 
Maken  mortrewes,11  and  wel  bake  a  pie. 

1  A  weaver.  s  A  tapestry-worker. 

3  An  evident  reference  to  the  guilds  of  the  middle  ages.     The  epithet 
"solempne"  probably  refers  to  the  initiation  into  a  species  of  free- 
masonry,  which  was  bestowed  upon  the  licensed  workers  in  a  particular 
department.    Compare  Palgrave's  "Merchant  and  Fryar,"  ch.  iii. 
4  Every  bit.  5  Dais. 

6  Each  one  of  them.  7  Otherwise. 

8  Royally.  *  The  nonce,  the  occasion. 

10  What  kind  of  ingredient  this  was  I  cannot  tell.  Cotgrave  mentions 
ft  Pouldre  Uanche  and  a  Pouldre  de  due,  which  seem  both  to  have  been 
used  in  cookery.  I  must  take  notice,  that  the  epithet  tart,  in  most  of 
the  MS.,  is  annexed  to  poudre  marchant,  and  I  rather  wish  I  had  left  it 
there,  as,  for  anything  that  I  know,  it  may  suit  that  as  well  as  Galingale. 

Tyrwhitt. 

"  Lord  Bacon,  in  his  Nat.  Hist.  i.  48,  speaks  of"  a  mortrett  made  with 
the  brawn  of  capons  stamped  and  strained."  He  joins  it  with  the  cullice 
(coulis)  of  cocks.  It  seems  to  have  been  a  rich  broth,  or  soupe,  in  the 
preparation  of  which  the  flesh  was  stamped,  or  beat,  in  a  mortar ;  from 
whence  it  probably  derived  its  name,  une  mortreute;  though  I  cannot  say 
that  I  have  ever  met  with  the  French  word. — Tynchitt. 


%y^  VILA**  -  JMwfr-v  Q^'b^ 


387-424.  THE  PROLOGUE.  10 

But  gret  harm  was  it,  as  it  thoughte  me, 
That  on  his  shinne  a  mormal1  hadde  he. 
For  blanc  manger2  that  made  he  with  the  best. 

A  shipman  was  ther,  woned  fer  by  West: 

For  ought  I  wote,  he  was  of  Dertemouth. 

He  rode  upon  a  rouncie,3  as  he  couthe, 

All  in  a  goune  of  falding  to  the  knee. 

A  dagger  hanging  by  a  las  hadde  hee 

About  his  nekke  under  his  arm  adoun. 

The  hote  sommer  hadde  made  his  hewe  al  broun. 

And  certainly  he  was  a  good  felaw. 

Ful  many  a  draught  of  win  he  hadde  draw 

From  Burdeux  ward,  while  that  the  chapman  slepe. 

Of  nice  conscience  toke  he  no  kepe. 

If  that  he  faught,  and  hadde  the  higher  hand, 

By  water  he  sent  hem  home  to  every  land. 

But  of  his  craft  to  reken  wel  his  tides, 

His  stremes  and  his  strandes  him  besides, 

His  herberwe,4  his  mone,  and  his  lodemanage,6 

Ther  was  non  swiche,  from  Hull  unto  Cartage. 

Hardy  he  was,  and  wise,  I  undertake : 

With  many  a  tempest  hadde  his  herd  be  shake. 

He  knew  wel  alle  the  havens,  as  they  were, 

Fro  Gotland,  to  the  Cape  de  finistere, 

And  eveiy  creke  in  Bretagne  and  in  Spaine. 

His  barge  ycleped  was  the  Magdelaine. 

With  us  ther  was  a  doctour  of  phisike, 
In  all  this  world  ne  was  ther  non  him  like 
To  speke  of  phisike,  and  of  surgerie : 
For  he  was  grounded  in  astronomie. 
He  kept  his  patient  a  ful  gret  del 
In  houres  by  his  magike  naturel. 
Wel  coude  he  fortunen  the  ascendent] 
Of  his  images  for  his  patient. 

He  knew  the  cause  of  every  maladie, 
Were  it  of  cold,  or  hote,  or  moist,  or  drie, 
And  wher  engendred,  and  of  what  humour, 
He  was  a  veray  parfite  practisour. 

1 A  gangrene. 
2  Different  from  our  evening  party  composition.    One  of  the  Ingre- 
dients i  a  described  as  "  the  brawne  of  a  capon,  tesed  small." — Tyrwhitt,  gl. 
8  A  common  back.  4  The  place  of  the  sun.  6  Pilotship. 


16  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  425-462, 

The  cause  yknowe,  and  ol  his  harm  the  rote, 

Anon  he  gave  to  the  sike  man  his  bote.1 

Ful  redy  hadde  he  his  apothecaries 

To  send  him  dragges,  and  his  lettuaries,2 

For  eche  of  hem  made  other  for  to  winne: 

Hir  friendship  n'as  not  newe  to  beginne. 

Wei  knew  he  the  old  Esculapius, 

And  Dioscorides,  and  eke  Eufus ; 

Old  Hippocras,  Hali,3  and  Gallien; 

Serapion,  Rasis,  and  Avicen; 

Averrois,  Damascene,  and  Constantin; 

Bernard,  and  Gatisden,  and  Gilbertin. 

Of  his  diete  mesurable  was  he, 

For  it  was  of  no  superfluitee, 

But  of  gret  nourishing,  and  digestible. 

His  studie  was  but  litel  on  the  Bible. 

In  sanguin  and  in  perse4  he  clad  was  alle 

Lined  with  taffata,  and  with  sendalle.5 

And  yet  he  was  but  esy  of  dispence : 

He  kepte  that  he  wan  in  the  pestilence. 

For  gold  in  phisike  is  a  cordial ; 

Therfore  he  loved  gold  in  special. 

A  good  wif  was  ther  of  beside  Bathe, 
But  she  was  som  del3  defe,  and  that  was  scathe. 
Of  cloth  making  she  hadde  swiche  an  haunt,7 
She  passed  hem  of  Tpres,  and  of  Gaunt. 
In  all  the  parish  wif  ne  was  ther  non, 
That  to  the  offring3  before  hire  shulde  gon, 
And  if  ther  did,  certain  so  wroth  was  she, 
That  she  was  out  of  alle  charitee. 
Hire  coverchiefs  weren  ful  fine  of  ground ; 
I  dorste  swere,  they  weyeden  a  pound ; 
That  on  the  Sonday  were  upon  hire  hede. 
Hire  hosen  weren  of  fine  scarlet  rede, 
Ful  streite  yteyed,  and  shoon  ful  moist9  and  newe. 
Bold  was  hire  face,  and  iayre  and  rede  of  hew. 
She  was  a  worthy  woman  all  hire  live, 
Housbondes  at  the  chirche  dore  had  she  had  five, 

1  Remedy.  2  Electuaries. 

8  An  Arabian  physician.  4  Sky-coloured,  blue. 
«  A  kind  of  thin  silk.                      6  A  little. 

7  Practice,  custom.  8  The  oll'crtory  ;.':  mass. 

9  Fresh. — See  Tyrwhitt. 


4C3-502.  THE  PROLOGUE.  17 

Withouten  other  compagnie  in  youthe. 
But  therof  nedeth  not  to  speke  as  nouthe.4 
And  thries  hadde  she  ben  at  Jerusaleme. 
She  hadde  passed  many  a  strange  streme. 
At  Rome  she  hadde  ben,  and  at  Boloine, 
In  Galice  at  Seint  James,  and  at  Coloine. 
She  coude  moche  of  wandring  by  the  way. 
Gat-tothed2  was  she,  sothly  for  to  say. 
Upon  an  ambler  esily  she  sat, 
Ywimpled  wel,  and  on  hire  hede  an  hat. 
As  brode  as  is  a  bokeler,  or  a  targe. 
A  fote-mantel  about  hire  hippes  large, 
And  on  hire  fete  a  pah'  ot  sporre3  sharpe. 
In  felawship  wel  coude  she  laughe  and  carpe 
Of  remedies  of  love  she  knew  parchance, 
For  of  that  arte  she  coude3  the  olde  dance. 

A  good  man  ther  was  of  religioun, 
That  was  a  poure  persone4  of  a  toun: 
But  riche  he  was  of  holy  thought  and  werk. 
He  was  also  a  lerned  man,  a  clerk, 
That  Cristes  gospel  trewely  wolde  preche. 
His  parishens  devoutly  wolde  he  teche. 
Benigne  he  was,  and  wonder  diligent, 
And  in  adversite  f ul  patient : 
And  swiche  he  was  ypreved  often  sithes. 
Ful  loth  were  him  to  cursen  for  his  tithe3, 
But  rather  wolde  he  yeven  out  of  doute, 
Unto  his  poure  parishens  aboute, 
Of  his  offring,  and  eke  of  his  substance. 
He  coude  in  litel  thing  have  suffisance. 
Wide  was  his  parish,  and  houses  fer  asonder, 
But  he  ne  left  nought  for  no  rain  ne  thonder, 
In  sikenesse  and  in  mischief  to  visite 
The  ferrest  in  his  parish,  moche  and  lite,5 
Upon  his  fete,  and  in  his  hand  a  staf. 
This  noble  eusample  to  his  shepe  he  yaf, 
That  first  he  wrought,  and  afterward  he  taught. 
Out  of  the  gospel  he  the  wordes  caught, 
And  this  figure  he  added  yet  therto, 
That  if  gold  ruste,  what  shuld  iren  do? 

1  Now. 

2  Tyrwhitt  confesses  himself  unable  to  explain  this  strange  expression. 

3  Knew.  ■»  Parson,  rector.  6  High  and  low. 

2* 


18  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES.  603-540. 

For  if  a  preest  be  foule,  on  whom  we  trust, 
No  wonder  is  a  lewed  man  to  rust : 
And  shame  it  is,  if  that  a  preest  take  kepe, 
To  see  a  shitten  shepherd,  and  clene  shepe : 
Wei  ought  a  preest  ensample  for  to  yeve, 
By  his  clenenesse,  how  his  shepe  shulde  live. 

He  sette  not  his  benefice  to  hire, 
And  lette  his  shepe  acombred  in  the  mire, 
And  ran  unto  London,  unto  Seint  Poules, 
To  seken  him  a  chanterie1  for  soules, 
Or  with  a  brotherhede  to  be  withold : 
But  dwelt  at  home,  and  kepte  wel  his  fold, 
So  that  the  wolf  ne  made  it  not  miscarie. 
He  was  a  shepherd,  and  no  mercenaries 
And  though  he  holy  were,  and  vertuoua, 
He  was  to  sinful  men  not  dispitous, 
Ne  of  his  speche  dangerous  ne  digne,3 
But  in  his  teching  discrete  and  benigne. 
To  drawen  folk  to  heven,  with  fairenesse, 
By  good  ensample,  was  his  besinesse : 
But  it  were  any  persone  obstinat, 
What  so  he  were  of  highe,  or  low  estat, 
Him  wolde  he  snibben  sharply  for  the  nones.4 
A  better  preest  I  trowe  that  nowher  non  is. 
He  waited  after  no  pompe  ne  reverence, 
Ne  maked  him  no  spiced  conscience,5 
But  Cristes  lore,  and  his  apostles  twelve, 
He  taught,  but  first  he  folwed  it  himselve. 

With  him  ther  was  a  plowman,  was  his  brother, 
That  hadde  ylaid  of  dong  ful  many  a  fother. 
A  trewe  s  winker,6  and  a  good  was  he, 
Living  in  pees,  and  parfite  charitee. 
God  loved  he  beste  with  alle  his  herte 
At  alle  times,  were  it  gain  or  smerte, 
And  than  his  neighebour  right  as  himselve. 
He  wolde  thresh,  and  therto  dike,  and  delve, 
For  Cristes  sake,  for  every  poure  wight, 
Withouten  hire,  if  it  lay  in  his  might. 

1  Thirty-five  of  these  chantries  were  established  at  St.  Paul's,  being 
•erved  by  fifty-four  priests. — Dugdale,  Hitt.  pref.  p.  41. — Tyrwhitt,  gl. 
!  An  obvious  allusion  to  John,  x.  12.  18. 
3  Proud.  *  Occasion. 

5  Probably  meaning,  that  he  did  not  care  to  flavour  his  lectures  with 
obliging  phrases,  to  make  them  palatable.  In  verse  CO  17  it  appears 
to  be  used  in  a  different  sense.  6  Labourer. 


541-568.  THE  PROLOGUE.  19 

His  tithes  paied  he  ful  fayre  and  wel 
Both  oi  his  propre  swinke,  and  his  cateL 
In  a  tabard1  he  rode  upon  a  mere. 

Ther  was  also  a  reve,2  and  a  millere, 
A  sompnour,3  and  a  pardoner  also, 
A  manciple,4  and  myself,  ther  n'ere  no  mo. 

The  miller  was  a  stout  carle  for  the  nones, 
Ful  bigge  he  was  of  braun,  and  eke  of  bones; 
That  proved  wel,  for  over  all  ther  he  came, 
At  wrastling  he  wold  bere  away  the  ram. 
He  was  short  shuldered  brode,  a  thikke  gnarre,5 
Ther  n'as  no  dore,  that  he  n'olde  heve  of  barre, 
Or  breke  it  at  a  renning  with  his  hede. 
His  berd  as  any  sowe  or  fox  was  rede, 
And  therto  brode,  as  though  it  were  a  spade. 
Upon  the  cops  right  of  his  nose  he  hade 
A  wert,  and  theron  stode  a  tufte  of  heres, 
Eede  as  the  bristles  of  a  sowes  eres. 
His  nose-thirles  blacke  were  and  wide. 
A  swerd  and  bokeler  bare  he  by  his  side. 
His  mouth  as  wide  was  as  a  forneis. 
He  was  a  jangler,7  and  a  goliardeis,3 
And  that  was  most  of  sinne,  and  harlotries. 
Wel  coude  he  stelen  come,  and  tollen  times. 
And  yet  he  had  a  thomb9  of  gold  parde. 
A  white  cote  and  a  blew  hode  wered  he. 
A  baggepipe  wel  coude  he  blowe  and  soune, 
And  therwithall  he  brought  us  out  of  toune. 

1  See  above,  on  verse  20.  i  Steward. 

8  An  officer  appointed  to  summon  delinquents  to  appear  in  ecclesiastical 
courts,  now  called  an  apparitor. 

4  One  who  lias  the  office  of  purchasing  provisions  for  a  college,  or  inn 
of  court 

5  A  hard  knot  in  a  tree.  6  Top.  7  A  prater,  babbler. 

8  Un  goliurdois,  Fr. ;  Goliardus,  or  Goliardensis,  Lat.  This  jovial  sect 
seems  to  have  been  so  called  from  Golias,  the  real  or  assumed  name  of  a 
man  of  wit,  towards  the  end  of  the  xiith  century,  who  wrote  the  Apica- 
h/psit  Goli<e,  and  other  pieces  in  burlesque  Latin  rimes,  some  of  wliich 
have  been  falsely  attributed  to  Walter  Map.  See  Tanner's  Bibl.  Brit, 
in  v.  Golias,  and  Du  Cange  in  v.  Goliardus. — Tynchitt. 

9  If  the  allusion  be,  as  is  most  probable,  to  the  old  proverb,  Every 
honest  Miller  has  a  thumb  of  gold,  this  passage  may  mean  that  our 
miller,  notwithstanding  his  thefts,  was  an  honest  miller,  i.  e.  as  honest  as 
his  brethren. — Tynchitt. 


20  THE  CANTERBUKY  TALES.  5G9-CO'i. 

'  A  gentil  manciple  was  ther  of  a  temple, 
Of  which  achatoux*sl  mighten  take  ensemple 
For  to  ben  wise  in  bying  of  vitaille. 
For  whether  that  he  paide,  or  toke  by  taille, 
Algate  he  waited  so  in  his  achate, 
That  he  was  ay  before  in  good  estate. 
Now  is  not  that  of  God  a  ful  fayre  grace, 
That  swiche  a  lewed  mannes  wit  shal  pace 
The  wisdom  of  an  hepe  of  lered  men  ? 

Of  maisters  had  he  mo  than  thries  ten, 
That  were  of  lawe  expert  and  curious : 
Of  which  ther  was  a  dosein  in  that  hoiis, 
Worthy  to  ben  stewardes  of  rent  and  lond 
Of  any  lord  that  is  in  Englelond, 
To  maken  him  live  by  his  propre  good, 
In  honour  detteles,8  but  if  he  were  wood, . 
Or  live  as  scarsly,  as  him  list  desire ; 
And  able  for  to  helpen  all  a  shire 
In  any  cas  that  mighte  fallen  or  happe ; 
And  yet  this  manciple  sette  hir  aller  cappe.3 

The  reve  was  a  slendre  colerike  man, 
His  herd  was  shave  as  neighe  as  ever  he  can. 
His  here  was  by  his  eres  round  yshorne. 
His  top  was  docked  like  a  preest  beforne. 
Ful  longe  were  his  legges,  and  ful  lene, 
Ylike  a  staff,  ther  was  no  calf  ysene. 
Wei  coude  he  kepe  a  garner  and  a  binne : 
Ther  was  non  auditour  coude  on  him  winne. 
Wei  wiste  he  by  the  drought,  and  by  the  rain, 
The  yelding  of  his  seed,  and  of  his  grain. 
His  lordes  shepe,  his  nete,  and  his  deirie, 
His  swine,  his  hors,  his  store,  and  his  pultrie, 
Were  holly  in  this  reves  governing, 
And  by  his  covenant  yave  he  rckening, 
Sin  that  his  lord  was  twenty  yere  of  age ; 
Ther  coude  no  man  bring  him  in  average. 
Ther  n'as  baillif,  ne  herde,  ne  other  hine, 
That  he  ne  knew  his  sleight  and  his  covine:4 
They  were  adradde  of  him,  as  of  the  deth. 
His  wonning  was  ful  fayre  upon  an  heth, 

1  Buyers.  2  Free  from  debt. 

*  Set  all  their  caps,  *'.  e.  made  fools  of  them.    See  verse  3145. 
4  Secret  contrivances. 


J09-C40.  THE  PKOLOGUE.  21 

With  grene  trees  yshadewed  was  his  place. 
He  coude  better  than  his  lord  pourchace 
Ful  riche  he  was  ystored  privily. 
His  lord  wel  coude  he  plesen  subtilly, 
To  yeve  and  lene1  him  of  his  owen  good, 
And  have  a  thank,  and  yet  a  cote  and  hood. 
In  youthe  he  lerned  hadde  a  good  mistere. 
He  was  a  wel  good  wright,  a  carpeiitere. 
This  reve  sate  upon  a  right  good  stot,2 
That  was  all  pomelee3  grey,  and  highte  Scot. 
A  long  surcote  of  perse4  upon  he  hade, 
And  by  his  side  he  bare  a  rusty  blade. 
Of  Norfolk  was  this  reve,  of  which  I  tell, 
Beside  a  toun,  men  clepen  Baldeswell. 
Tucked  he  was,  as  is  a  frere,  aboute, 
And  ever  he  rode  the  hinderest  of  the  route. 

A  sompnour  was  ther  with  us  in  that  place, 
That  hadde  a  fire-red  cherubinnes  face, 
For  sausefleme5  he  was,  with  eyen  narwe. 
As  hote  he  was,  and  likerous  as  a  sparwe, 
"With  scalled  browes  blake,  and  pilled  berd: 
Of  his  visage  children  were  sore  aferd. 
Ther  n'as  quiksilver,  litarge,  ne  brimston, 
Boras,  ceruse,  ne  oile  of  tartre  non, 
Ne  oinement  that  wolde  dense  or  bite, 
That  him  might  helpen  of  his  whelkes  white, 
Ne  of  the  knobbes  sitting  on  his  chekes. 
Wel  loved  he  garlike,  onions,  and  lekes, 
And  for  to  drinke  strong  win  as  redo  as  blood. 
Than  wolde  he  speke,  and  crie  as  he  were  wood. 
And  whan  that  he  wel  dronken  had  the  win, 
Than  wold  he  speken  no  word  but  Latin. 

1  Lend.  2  A  stallion.  3  Dappled.  4  Blue. 

5  I  find  this  word  in  an  old  Fr.  book  of  Physick,  which  I  have  quoted 
before  in  n.  on  ver.  165.  "  Oignement  magistrel^w  sausefieme  et  pur 
ehescune  manere  de  roigne." — lioigne  signifies  any  scorbutic  eruption.  So 
in  the  Thousand  notable  things,  B.  i.  70.  "  A  saxcsjteame  or  red  pimpled 
face  is  helped  with  this  medicine  following." — Two  of  the  ingredients  are 
quicksilver  and  brimstone.  In  another  place,  B.  ii.  20,  Oyle  of  Tartar  is 
said  to  take  away  cleane  all  spots,  freckles,  and  filthy  wheales."  These 
hist,  I  cuppose,  are  what  Chaucer  calls  whelkes.  The  original  of  the  word 
seems  to  be  pointed  out  in  the  following  passage.  Vit.  R.  ii.  a  Mon. 
Kvesh.  p.  1G9,  "  facies  alba — interdum  sanguinis  floumate  viciata. — 
'.  'inr/iitt. 


22  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES.  641-672. 

A  fewe  termes  coude  he,  two  or  three, 
That  he  had  lerned  out  of  som  decree ; 
No  wonder  is,  he  herd  it  all  the  day. 
And  eke  ye  knowen  wel,  how  that  a  jay 
Can  clepen  watte,  as  wel  as  can  the  pope. 
But  who  so  wolde  in  other  thing  him  grope. 
Than  hadde  he  spent  all  his  philosophic, 
Ay,  Questio  quid  juris,1  wolde  he  crie. 

He  was  a  gentil  harlot  and  a  kind  ; 
A  better  felaw  shulde  a  man  not  find. 
He  wolde  suffre  for  a  quart  of  wine, 
A  good  felaw  to  have  his  concubine 
A  twelve  month,  and  excuse  him  at  the  fulL 
Ful  prively  a  finch  eke  coude  he  pull.2 
And  if  he  found  owhere  a  good  felawe, 
He  wolde  techen  him  to  have  non  awe 
In  swiche  a  cas  of  the  archedekenes  curse ; 
But  if  a  mannes  soule  were  in  his  purse ; 
For  in  his  purse  he  shulde  ypunished  be. 
Purse  is  the  archedekens  helle,  said  he. 
But  wel  I  wote,  he  lied  right  in  dede : 
Of  cursing  ought  eche  gilty  man  him  drede. 
For  curse  wol  sle3  right  as  assoiling4  saveth, 
And  also  ware  him  of  a  significavit.* 

In  danger6  hadde  he  at  his  owen  gise 
The  yonge  girles7  of  the  diocise, 
And  knew  hir  conseil,  and  was  of  hir  rede. 
A  gerlond  hadde  he  sette  upon  his  hede, 
As  gret  as  it  were  for  an  alestake  :s 
A  bokeler  hadde  he  made  him  of  a  cake. 

With  him  ther  rode  a  gentil  Pardonere9 
Of  Bouncevall,  his  frend  and  his  compere,10 

1  A  customary  question  in  old  law-writings,  after  the  statement  of  a  case. 
s  "  /.  e.  pluck  a  pigeon,"  as  we  should  say.         3  Slay.        4  Absolution. 
5  I.  e.  of  a  writ  de  excommunicate  capiendo,  which  usually  began,  Signi- 
ficant nobis  venerabilis  pater,  &c. 

6  Within  the  reach  or  control  of  his  office. 
7  This  word  is  applied  to  both  sexes  in  Chaucer,  and  therefore  may 
mean  the  young  men  as  well  as  the  young  women. 

8  A  sign-post  in  front  of  an  ale-house. 
9  A  seller  of  indulgences.  See  below,  on  verse  710 
10  I  can  hardly  think  that  Chaucer  meant  to  bring  his  Pardoner  from 
Roncevaux  in  Navarre,  and  yet  I  cannot  find  anyplace  of  that  name  in 
England.  An  Hospital  Beat.  Marie  de  Rouncyvalle  in  Charing,  London, 
is  mentioned  in  the  Monast.  t.  ii.  443.  and  there  was  a  Runceval  Hall  in 
Oxford.    So  that  perhaps  it  was  the  nameof  some  fraternity. — Tyrtchitt. 


673-708.  THE  PROLOGUE.  23 

That  streit  was  comen  from  the  court  of  Rome. 
Full  loude  he  sang,  "  Come  hither,  love,  to  me."1 
This  sompnour  bare  to  him  a  stiff  burdoun, 
Was  never  trompe  of  half  so  great  a  soun. 
This  pardoner  had  here2  as  yelwe  as  wax, 
But  smoth  it  heng,  as  doth  a  strike  of  flax : 
By  unces  heng  his  lokkes  that  he  hadde, 
And  therwith  he  his  shulders  overspradde. 
Ful  thinne  it  lay,  by  culpons3  on  and  on, 
But  hode,  for  jolite,  ne  wered  he  non, 
For  it  was  trussed  up  in  his  wallet.! 
Him  thought  he  rode  al  of  the  newe  get,4 
Dishevele,  sauf  his  cappe,  he  rode  all  bare. 
Swiche  glaring  eyen  hadde  he,  as  an  hare. 
A  vernicle5  hadde  he  sewed  upon  his  cappe. 
His  wallet  lay  beforne  him  in  his  lappe, 
Bret-f  ul  of  pardon  come  from  Rome  al  hote. 
A  vois  he  hadde,  as  smale  as  hath  a  gote. 
No  berde  hadde  he,  ne  never  non  shulde  have, 
As  smothe  it  was  as  it  were  newe  shave ; 
-  I  trowe  he  were  a  gelding  or  a  mare. 

But  of  his  craft,  fro  Berwike  unto  "Ware, 
Ne  was  ther  swiche  an  other  pardonere. 
For  in  his  male  he  hadde  a  pilwebere,6 
Which,  as  he  saide,  was  oure  ladies  veil : 
He  saide,  he  hadde  a  gobbet7  of  the  seyl 
Thatte  seint  Peter  had,  whan  that  he  went 
Upon  the  see,  till  Jesu  Crist  him  hent.8 
He  had  a  crois  of  laton9  ful  of  stones, 
And  in  a  glas  he  hadde  pigges  bones. 
But  with  these  relikes,  whanne  that  he  fond 
A  poure  persone  dwelling  up  on  lond, 
Upon  a  day  he  gat  him  more  moneie 
Than  that  the  persone  gat  in  monethes  tweie. 
And  thus  with  fained  flattering  and  japes, 
He  made  the  persone,  and  the  peple,  his  apes. 

1  Probably  the  beginning  of  some  love-ditty  popular  in  those  days. 

8  Hair.  3  Shreds.  4  Fashion. 

s  A  miniature  copy  of  the  picture  of  Christ,  which  is  said  to  have  been 
miraculously  imprinted  upon  a  handkerchief,  preserved  in  the  Church  of 
St.  Peter  at  Rome.  The  Pardoner,  therefore,  brings  thi3  in  token  of  his 
pilgrimage  to  Rome.     See  Du  Cange,  v.  Veronica. 

6  A  pillow-case.  7  Morsel.  8  Took  hold  of  him. 

9  A  sort  of  mixed  metal,  of  the  colour  of  brass. 


24  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES.  709-742. 

But  trewely  to  tellen  attest  last, 
He  was  in  chirche  a  noble  ecclesiast.1 
Wei  coude  he  rede  a  lesson  or  a  storie, 
Rut  alderbest  he  sang  an  offertorie : 
For  wel  he  wiste,  whan  that  song  was  songe, 
He  muste  preche,  and  wel  afile2  his  tonge, 
To  winne  silver,  as  he  right  wel  coude : 
Therfore  he  san#  the  merier  and  loude. 


Now  have  I  told  you  shortly  in  a  clause, 
Th'  estat,  th'  araie,  the  nombre,  and  eke  the  cause 
Why  that  assembled  was  this  compagnie 
In  Southwerk  at  this  gentil  hostelrie, 
That  highte  the  Tabard,  faste  by  the  Belle, 
But  now  is  time  to  you  for  to  telle, 
How  that  we  baren  us  that  ilke  night, 
Whan  we  were  in  that  hostelrie  alight 
And  after  wol  I  telle  of  our  viage, 
And  all  the  remenant  of  our  pilgrimage. 

But  firste  I  praie  you  of  your  curtesie, 
That  ye  ne  arette3  it  not  my  vilanie, 
Though  that  I  plainly  speke  in  this  matere, 
To  tellen  you  hir  wordes  and  hir  chere  ; 
Ne  though  I  speke  hir  wordes  proprely. 
For  this  ye  knowen  al  so  wel  as  I, 
Who  so  shall  telle  a  tale  after  a  man, 
He  moste  reherse,  as  neighe  as  ever  he  can, 
Everich  word,  if  it  be  in  his  charge, 
All  speke  he  never  so  rudely  and  so  large ; 
Or  elles  he  moste  tellen  his  tale  untrewe, 
Or  feinin  thinges,  or  fmden  wordes  newe. 
He  may  not  spare,  although  he  were  his  brother. 
He  moste  as  wel  sayn  o4  word,  as  an  other. 
Crist  s]3ake  himself  ful  brode  in  holy  writ, 
And  wel  ye  wote  no  vilanie  is  it. 


It  appears  from  hence  that  the  Pardoner  was  an  itinerant  ecclesiat- 
tick  of  much  the  same  stamp  with  Frate  Cipolla  in  the  Decameron,  vi.  1 0. 
By  the  Stat.  22  H.  VIII.  c.  12,  all  proctors  and  pardoners  going  about  in 
any  country  without  sufficient  authority  are  to  be  treated  as  vagabonds. 
Their  impositions  upon  the  credulity  of  the  vulgar  have  been  checked  by 
several  councils.  See  Du  Cange,  in  v.  Qi>r.itiarii  and  Qucestionarius, 
under  which  general  names  the  venders  of  indulgences  are  included. 
2  Polish.  3  impute  it  to.  4  One. 


74-3-7SO.  THE  PROLOGUE.  25 

Eke  Plato  sayeth,  who  so  can  him  rede, 
The  wordes  moste  ben  cosin  to  the  dede.1 

A  lso  I  praie  you  to  forgive  it  me, 
All  have  I  not-  sette  folk  in  hir  degree, 
Here  in  this  tale,  as  that  they  shulden  stonde. 
My  wit  is  short,  ye  may  wel  understonde. 

Gret  chere  made  onre  hoste  us  everich  on, 
And  to  the  souper  sette  he  us  anon : 
And  served  us  with  vitaille  of  the  beste. 
Strong  was  the  win,  and  wel  to  drinke  us  leste* 
A  semely  man  our  hoste  was  with  alle 
For  to  han  ben  a  marshal  in  an  halle. 
A  large  man  he  was  with  eyen  stepe,4 
A  fairer  burgeis  is  ther  non  in  Chepe : 
Bold  of  his  speche,  and  wise  and  wel  y taught, 
And  of  manhood  him  lacked  righte  naught. 
Eke  therto  was  he  right  a  mery  man, 
And  after  souper  plaien  he  began, 
And  spake  of  mirthe  amonges  other  thinges, 
"Whan  that  we  hadden  made  our  rekeninges ; 
And  saide  thus  ;  Now,  lordinges,  trewely 
Ye  ben  to  me  welcome  right  hertily : 
For  by  my  trouthe,  if  that  I  shal  not  lie, 
I  saw  nat  this  yere  swiche  a  compagnie 
At  ones  in  this  herberwe,5  as  is  now. 
Fayn  wolde  I  do  you  mirthe,  and  I  wiste  how. 
And  of  a  mirthe  I  am  right  now  bethought, 
To  don  you  ese,  and  it  shall  coste  you  nought. 
Ye  gon  to  Canterbury ;  God  you  spede,     i/W\. 
The  blisful  martyr  quite  you  your  mede; 
And  wel  I  wot,  as  ye  gon  by  the  way, 
Ye  shapen  you  to  talkeu  and  to  play: 
For  trewely  comfort  ne  mirthe  is  non, 
To  riden  by  the  way  dombe  as  the  ston : 
And  therfore  wold  I  maken  you  disport, 
As  I  said  erst,  and  don  you  some  comfort. 
And  if  you  liketh  alle  by  on  assent 
Now  for  to  stonden  at  my  jugement : 

1  This  sayin<r  of  Plato  is  quoted  again  v.  17,158.   Oar  author  probably 
took  it  from  Bocthius,  B.  Hi.  Pr.  12.     See  also  Rom.  de  la  R.  ver.  7465. 

2  /.  e.  if  I  have  not.  Cf.  vs.  2177.    "  All  be  ye  not  of  o  complexion." 

3  It  pleased  us  well.  *  See  ou  v.  201. 

•'■  Harbour,  i".  e.  inn,  hostel. 
3 


26  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  781-820 

And  for  to  werchen1  as  I  shal  you  say 

To-morwe,  whan  ye  riden  on  the  way, 

Now  by  my  faders  soule  that  is  ded, 

But  ye  be  mery,  smiteth  of  my  hed. 

Hold  up  your  hondes  withouten  more  speche. 

Our  conseil  wa3  not  louge  for  to  seche  : 
Us  thought  it  was  not  worth  to  make  it  wise,3 
And  granted  him  withouten  more  avise, 
And  bad  him  say  his  verdit,  as  him  leste. 

Lordinges,  (quod  he)  now  herkeneth  for  the  beste ; 
But  take  it  nat,  I  pray  you,  in  disdain ; 
This  is  the  point,  to  speke  it  plat  and  plain, 
That  eche  of  you  to  shorten  with  youre  way, 
In  this  viage,  shal  tellen  tales  tway, 
To  Canterbury  ward,  I  mene.  it  so, 
And  homeward  he  shall  tellen  other  two, 
Of  aventures  that  whilom  han  befalle. 
And  which  of  you  that  bereth  him  best  of  alle, 
That  is  to  sayn,  that  telleth  in  this  cas 
Tales  of  best  sentence  and  most  solas,3 
Shal  have  a  souper  at  youre  aller  cost 
Here  in  this  place  sitting  by  this  post, 
Whan  that  ye  comen  agen  from  Canterbury. 
And  for  to  maken  you  the  more  mery, 
I  wol  myselven  gladly  with  you  ride, 
Right  at  min  owen  cost,  and  be  your  gide 
And  who  that  wol  my  jugement  withsay, 
Shall  pay  for  alle  we  spenden  by  the  way. 
And  if*  ye  vouchesauf  that  it  be  so, 
Telle  me  anon  withouten  wordes  mo, 
And  I  wol  erly  shapen  me  therfore. 

This  thing  was  granted,  and  our  othes  swore* 
With  ful  glad  herte,  and  praiden  him  also, 
That  he  wold  vouchesauf  for  to  don  so, 
And  that  he  wolde  ben  our  governour, 
And  of  our  tales  juge  and  reportour, 
And  sette  a  souper  at  a  certain  pris ; 
And  we  wol  reuled  ben  at  his  devise, 
In  highe  and  lowe  :  and  thus  by  on  assent, 
We  ben  accorded  to  his  jugement. 

1  To  do.    8  I.  e.  To  give  it  a  long  deliberation.  3  Comfort,  pleasure. 

4  I.  e.  we  swore  our  oaths,  and  prayed  him.  Our  author  too  fre- 
quently omits  the  governing  pronoun  before  the  verb.  Cf.  vss.  1757, 
5042.  5054,  &0. 


821-860.  TIIE  PROLOGUE.  27 

And  therupon  the  win  was  fette  anon. 
We  dronken,  and  to  reste  wenten  eche  on. 
Withouten  any  lenger  tarying. 

A-morwe  whan  the  day  began  to  spring, 
Up  rose  our  hoste,  and  was  our  aller  cok. 
And  gaderd  us  togeder  in  a  flok, 
And  torth  we  riden  a  litel  more  than  pas,  x 
Unto  the  watering  of  Seint  Thomas : 
And  ther  our  hoste  began  his  hors  arest, 
And  saide  ;  lordes,  herkeneth  if  you  lest. 
Ye  wete  your  forword,2  and  I  it  record. 
If  even-song  and  morwe-song  accord, 
Let  se  now  who  shal  telle  the  first  tale. 
As  ever  mote  I  drinken  win  or  ale, 
Who  so  is  rebel  to  my  jugement, 
Shal  pay  for  alle  that  by  the  way  is  spent. 
Now  draweth3  cutte,  or  that  ye  forther  twinne. ' 
He  which  that  hath  the  shortest  shal  beginne. 

Sire  knight,  (quod  he)  my  maister  and  my  lord, 
Now  draweth  cutte,  for  that  is  min  accord. 
Cometh  nere,  (quod  he)  my  lady  prioresse, 
And  ye,  sire  clerk,  let  be  your  shamefastnesse, 
Ne  studieth  nought,  lay  hand  to,  every  man. 

Anon  to  drawen  every  wight  began, 
And  shortly  for  to  tellen  as  it  was, 
Were  it  by  aventure,  or  sprt,  or  cas, 
The  sothe  is  this,  the  cutte  felle  on  the  knight 
Of  which  ful  blith  and  glad  was  every  wight ; 
And  tell  he  must  his  tale  as  was  reson, 
But  forword,  and  by  composition, 
As  ye  han  herd ;  what  nedeth  wordes  mo  ? 
And  whan  this  good  man  saw  that  it  was  so, 
As  he  that  wise  was  and  obedient 
To  kepe  his  forword  by  his  free  assent, 
He  saide ;  sithen  I  shal  begin  this  game, 
What  ?  welcome  be  the  cutte  a5  goddes  name. 
Now  let  us  ride,  and  herkeneth6  what  I  say. 

And  with  that  word  we  riden  forth  our  way; 
And  he  began  with  right  a  mery  chere 
His  tale  anon,  and  saide  as  ye  shul  here. 

1 1,  e.  acted  as  cock  for  us  all.  woke  us  in  time. 
J  You  know  your  promise.        3  Draw.  It  is  the  second  person  plural. 
*  Before  ye  proceed  farther.  6  In.  6  See  on  v.  837. 


28 

fie  JttijJtM  Sri* 

861—890. 


Whilom,  as  olde  stories  tellen  us, 
Ther  was  a  duk  that  highte  Theseus.1 
Of  Athenes  he  was  lord  and  governour, 
And  in  his  time  swiche  a  conquerour, 
That  greter  was  ther  non  under  the  Sonne. 
Ful  many  a  riche  contree  had  he  wonne. 
"What  with  his  wisdom  and  his  chevalrie, 
He  conquerd  all  the  regne  of  Feminie,2 
That  whilom  was  ycleped  Scythia ; 
And  wedded  the  freshe  quene  Ipolita, 
And  brought  hire  home  with  him  to  his  contree 
"With  mochel  glorie  and  gret  solempnitee, 
And  eke  hire  yonge  suster  Emelie. 
And  thus  with  victorie  and  with  melodie 
Let  I  this  worthy  duk  to  Athenes  ride, 
And  all  his  host,  in  armes  him  beside. 

And  certes,  if  it  n'ere:i  to  long  to  here, 
I  wolde  have  told  you  fully  the  manere, 
How  wonnen  was  the  regne  of  Feminie, 
By  Theseus,  and  by  his  chevalrie ; 
And  of  the  grete  bataille  for  the  nones 
Betwix  Athenes  and  the  Amasones ; 
And  how  asseged  was  Ipolita 
The  faire  hardy  quene  of  Scythia; 
And  of  the  feste,  that  was  at  hire  wedding, 
And  of  the  temple  at  hire  home  coming. 
But  all  this  thing  I  moste  as  now  forbere. 
I  have,  God  wot,  a  large  feld  to  ere ; 
And  weke  ben  the  oxen  in  my  plow. 
The  remenant  of  my  tale  is  long  ynow. 

1  For  a  copious  account  of  the  Theseida  of  Boccace,  of  which  Chaucer 
has  largely,  but  with  excellent  judgment,  availed  himself,  see  Tyrwhitt's 
Introduction^  ix. 
2  Womanhood,  i.  e.  the  kingdom  of  the  Amazons.         3  If  it  were  not. 


3<v 


■^^MJW**^-* 


'  (A*  7^°  ""  •"  h^ 


<u~y~~ 


-  V 


t^v 


Y«  Knightes  Tale. 


891 — 932.  THE   KNIGHTES  TALE.  29 

I  wil  not  letten  eke  non  of  this  route. 
Let  every  felaw  telle  his  tale  aboute. 
And  let  se  now  who  shal  the  souper  winno. 
Ther  as  I  left,  I  wil  agen  beginne. 

This  duk,  of  whom  I  male  mentioun, 
Whan  he  was  comen  almost  to  the  toun, 
In  all  his  wele  and  in  his  moste  pride. 
He  was  ware,  as  he  cast  his  eye  aside, 
Wher  that  ther  kneled  in  the  highe  wey 
A  compagnie  of  ladies,  twey  and  twey, 
Eche  after  other,  clad  in  clothes  blake : 
But  swiche  a  crie  and  swiche  a  wo  they  make, 
That  in  this  world  n'is  creature  living, 
That  ever  herd  swiche  another  waimenting. 
And  of  this  crie  ne  wolde  they  never  stenten,1 
Till  they  the  l'eines  of  his  bridel  henten,2 

What  folk  be  ye  that  at  min  home  coming 
Perturben  so  my  feste  with  crying? 
Quod  Theseus ;  have  ye  so  grete  envie 
Of  min  honour,  that  thus  complaine  and  crie  1 
Or  who  hath  you  misboden,3  or  offended  ] 
Do  telle  me,  if  that  it  may  be  amended ; 
And  why  ye  be  thus  clothed  alle  in  blake? 

The  oldest  lady  of  hem  all  than  spake, 
Whan  she  had  swouned,  with  a  dedly  chere,4 
That  it  was  reuthe5  for  to  seen  and  here. 
She  sayde ;  lord,  to  whom  fortune  hath  yeven 
Victorie,  and  as  a  conquerour  to  liven, 
Nought  greveth  us  your  glorie  and  your  honour; 
But  we  beseke  you  of  mercie  and  socour. 
Have  mercie  on  our  woe  and  our  distresse. 
Som  drope  of  pitee,  thurgh  thy  gentillesse, 
Upon  us  wretched  wimmen  let  now  falle. 
For  certes,  lord,  ther  n'is  non  of  us  alle, 
That  she  n'hath  ben  a  duchesse  or  a  quene; 
Now  be  we  caitives,  as  it  is  wel  sene  : 
Thanked  be  fortune,  and  hire  false  whele, 
That  non  estat  ensureth  to  be  wele. 
And  certes,  lord,  to  abiden  your  presence 
Here  in  this  temple  of  the  goddesse  Clemcnce 
We  ban  ben  waiting  all  this  fourtenight: 
Now  helpe  us,  lord,  sin  it  lieth  in  thy  might. 

1  So  in  Uomeo  and  Juliet:    "  She  stinted,  and  cried  aye,"  i.e.  left  off 
weeping.        2  Seized.         3  Injured.        •»  Appearance.        &  l'iteous. 

3* 


oO  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  933-07Q, 

I  wretched  wight,  that  wepe  and  watte  thus, 
Was  whilom  wif  to  king  Capaneus, 
That  starfe'  at  Thebes,  cursed  be  that  day : 
And  alle  we  that  ben  in  this  aray, 
And  maken  all  this  lamentation, 
We  losten  alle  our  husbondes  at  that  toun, 
While  that  the  sege  therabouten  lay. 
And  yet  now  the  olde  Creon,  wala  wa  !a 
That  lord  is  now  of  Thebes  the  citee, 
Fulfilled  of  ire  and  of  iniquitee, 
He  for  despit,  and  for  his  tyrannic, 
To  don  the  ded  bodies  a  vilanie, 
Of  alle  our  lordes,  which  that  ben  yslawe, 
Hath  alle  the  bodies  on  an  hepe  ydrawe, 
And  will  not  suffren  hem  by  non  assent 
Neyther  to  ben  yberied,  ne  ybrent, 
But  maketh  houndes  ete  hem  in  despite. 

And  with  that  word,  withouten  more  respite 
They  fallen  grofij3  and  crien  pitously; 
Have  on  us  wretched  wimmen  som  mercy, 
And  let  our  sorwe  sinken  in  thin  herte. 

This  genttt  duk  doun  from  his  courser  sterte4 
With  herte  pitous,  whan  he  herd  hem  speke. 
Him  thoughte  that  his  herte  wolde  all  to-breke, 
Whan  he  saw  hem  so  pitous  and  so  mate,5 
That  whilom  weren  of  so  gret  estate. 
And  in  his  armes  he  hem  all  up  hente, 
And  hem  comforted  in  ful  good  entente, 
And  swore  his  oth,  as  he  was  trewe  knight, 
He  wolde  don  so  ferforthly6  his  might 
Upon  the  tyrant  Creon  hem  to  wreke, 
That  all  the  peple  of  Grece  shulde  speke, 
How  Creon  was  of  Theseus  yserved, 
As  he  that  hath  his  deth  ful  well  deserved. 

And  right  anon  withouten  more  abode 
His  banner  he  displaide,  and  forth  he  rode 
To  Thebes  ward,  and  all  his  host  beside: 
No  nere  Athenes  n'olde  he  go  ne  ride, 

i  Died. 
3  Well  a  day !  an  old  Saxon  interjection.     The  classical  student 
should  compare  Sophocles'  Antigone,  and  the  Supplices  and  Phoenissa 
of  Euripides ;  but  I  have  no  space  for  classical  parallels. 
.  3  Flat  on  the  earth.  *  Leaped. 

*  Prostrated,  half  dead  with  grief.  6  Far  forth,  thoroughly. 


971-1012.  THE   KNIGIITES  TALE.  31 

Ne  take  his  ese  fully  half  a  day, 

But  onward  on  his  way  that  night  he  lay: 

And  sent  anon  Ipolita  the  quene, 

And  Emelie  hire  yonge  sister  shene1 

Unto  the  toun  of  Athenes  for  to  dwell : 

And  forth  he  rit;  ther  n'is  no  more  to  tell. 

The  red  statue  of  Mars  with  spere  and  targe 
So  shineth  in  his  white  banner  large, 
That  all  the  feldes  gliteren  up  and  doun : 
And  by  his  banner  borne  is  his  penon 
Of  gold  ful  riche,  in  which  ther  was  ybete8 
-    The  Minotaure  which  that  he  slew  in  Crete. 
Thus  rit  this  duk,  thus  rit  this  conquerour 
And  in  his  host  of  chevalrie  the  flour, 
Til  that  he  came  to  Thebes,  and  alight 
Fayre  in  a  feld,  ther  as  he  thought  to  fight. 
But  shortly  for  to  speken  of  this  thing, 
With  Creon,  which  that  was  of  Thebes  king, 
He  fought,  and  slew  him  manly  as  a  knight 
In  plaine  bataille,  and  put  his  folk  to  flight: 
And  by  assaut  he  wan  the  citee  after, 
And  rent  adoun  bothe  wall  and  sparre,3  and  rafter  ; 
And  to  the  ladies  he  restored  again 
The  bodies  of  hir  housbondes  that  were  slain, 
To  don  the  obsequies,  as  was  tho  the  gise.4 

But  it  were  all  to  long  for  to  devise 
The  grete  clamour,  and  the  waimenting, 
Whiche  that  the  ladies  made  at  the  brenning 
Of  the  bodies,  and  the  gret  honour, 
That  Theseus  the  noble  conquerour 
Doth  to  the  ladies,  whan  they  from  him  wente : 
But  shortly  for  to  telle  is  min  entente. 

Whan  that  this  worthy  duk,  this  Theseus, 
Hath  Creon  slaine,  and  wonnen  Thebes  thus, 
Still  in  the  feld  he  toke  all  night  his  reste, 
And  did  with  all  the  contree  as  him  leste. 
To  ransake  in  the  tas5  of  bodies  dede, 
Hem  for  to  stripe  of  harneis  and  of  wede, 
The  pillours6  dide  hir  besinesse  and  cure, 
After  the  bataille  and  discomfiture. 
And  so  befell,  that  in  the  tas  they  found, 
Thurgh  girt  with  many  a  grevous  blody  wound, 

1  Beautiful,  bright.  2  Stamped.  3  Bar. 

4  As  was  then  the  fashion.        '•>  Heap.  6  Pillagers. 


32  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  1013-1054. 

Two  yonge  knightes  ligging  by  and  by, 
Bothe  in  on  armes,  wrought  fill  richeiy: 
Of  whiche  two,  Arcita  highte  that  on, 
And  lie  that  other  highte  Palamon. 
Not  fully  quik,  ne  fully  ded  they  were 
But  by  hir  cote-armure,  and  by  hir  gere, 
The  heraudes  knew  hem  wel  in  special, 
As  tho  that  weren  of  the  blood  real1 
Of  Thebes,  and  of  sustren2  two  yborne. 
Out  of  the  tas  the  pillours  han  hem  torne, 
And  han  hem  caried  soft  unto  the  tente 
Of  Theseus,  and  he  ful  sone  hem  sente 
To  Athenes,  for  to  dwellen  in  prison 
Perpetuel,  he  n'olde  no  raunson. 
And  whan  this  worthy  duk  had  thus  ydon, 
He  toke  his  host,  and  home  he  rit  anon 
With  laurer  crouned  as  a  cone. 'erour; 
And  ther  he  liveth  in  joyeand  in  honour 
Terme  of  his  lif ;  what  nedeth  wordes  mo  ? 
And  in  a  tour,  in  anguish  and  in  wo, 
Dwellen  this  Palamon  and  eke  Arcite, 
For  evermo,  ther3  may  no  gold  hem  quite. 

Thus  passeth  yere  by  yere,  and  day  by  day, 
Till  it  felle  ones  in  a  morwe-of  May 
That  Emelie,  that  fayrer  was  to  sene 
Than  is  the  lilie  upon  his  stalke  grene, 
And  fresher  than  the  May  with  floures  newe, 
(For  with  the  rose  colour  strof  hire  he  we; 
I  n'ot  which  was  the  finer  of  hem  two) 
Er  it  was  day,  as  she  was  wont  to  do, 
She  was  arisen,  and  all  redy  dight. 
For  May  wol  have  no  slogardie  a-night. 
The  seson  priketh  every  gentil  herte, 
And  maketh  him  out  of  his  slepe  to  sterte, 
And  sayth,  arise,  and  do  thin  observance. 

This  maketh  Emelie  han  remembrance 
To  don  honour  to  May,  and  for  to  rise. 
Yclothed  was  she  freshe  for  to  devise.    » 
Hire  yelwe  here  was  broided  in  a  tresse, 
Behind  hire  back,  a  yerde  long  I  gesse. 
And  in  the  gardin  at  the  soime  uprist4 
She  walketh  up  and  doun  wher  as  hire  list. 

» Royal.  2  Sister*.  -Where.  *  Reprising, 


1055-]  004.  TIIE  KNIGIITES  TALE.  33 

She  gatliereth  floures,  partie  white  and  red, 

To  make  a  sotel1  gerlond  for  hire  hed, 

And  as  an  angel  hevenlich  she  song. 

The  grete  tour,  that  was  so  thikke  and  strong, 

Which  of  the  castel  was  the  chef  dongeon, 

(Wher  as  these  knightes  weren  in  prison, 

Of  which  I  tolde  you,  and  tellen  shal) 

Was  even  joinant  to  the  gardin  wall, 

Ther  as  this  Emelie  had  hire  playing. 

Bright  was  the  sonne,  and  clere  that  morwening, 
And  Falamon,  this  woful  prisoner, 
As  was  his  wone,  by  leve  of  his  gayler 
Was  risen,  and  romed  in  a  chambre  on  high 
In  which  he  all  the  noble  citee  sigh, 
And  eke  the  gardin,  ful  of  branches  grene, 
Ther  as  this  freshe  Emelia  the  shene* 
Was  in  hire  walk,  and  romed  up  and  doun. 

This  sorweful  prisoner,  this  Palamon 
Goth'  in  his  chambre  roming  to  and  fro, 
And  to  himselfe  complaining  of  his  wo : 
That  he  was  borne,  ful  oft  he  sayd,  alas ! 

And  so  befell,  by  aventure  or  cas, 
That  thurgh  a  window  thikke  of  many  a  barre 
Oi  yren  gret,  and  square  as  any  sparre, 
He  cast  his  eyen  upon  Emelia, 
And  therwithal  he  blent4  and  cried,  a ! 
As  though  he  stongen  were  unto  the  herte. 

And  with  that  crie  Arcite  anon  up  sterte, 
And  saide,  cosin  min,  what  eyleth  thee, 
That  art  so  pale  and  dedly  for  to  see? 
Why  cridest  thou  ?  who  hath  thee  don  offence  ? 
For  goddes  love,  take  all  in  patience 
Our  prison,  for  it  may  non  other  be. 
Fortune  hath  yeven5  us  this  adversite 
Some  wikke6  aspect  or  disposition 
Of  Saturne,  by  som  constellation. 
Hath  yeven  us  this,  although  we  had  it  sworn, 
So  stood  the  heven  whan  that  we  were  born, 
We  moste  endure :  this  is  the  short  and  plain. 

This  Falamon  answerde,  and  sayde  again; 

1  Subtle,  cunningly  devised.  2  Beautiful. 

3  Goeth.  4  Blenched,  shrunk,  started  aside. 

8  Given.  6  Evil. 


34  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  1095-113*. 

Cosin,  forsotb  of  this  opinion 
Thou  hast  a  vaine  imagination. 
.  This  prison  caused  me  not  for  to  crie. 
But  I  was  hurt  right  now  thurghout  min  eye 
Into  min  herte,  that  wol  my  bane  be. 
The  fayrnesse  of  a  lady  that  I  se 
Yond  in  the  gardin  roming  to  and  fro, 
Is  cause  of  all  my  crying  and  my  wo. 
I  n'ot  whe'r  she  be  woman  or  goddesse. 
But  Venus  is  it,  sothly,  as  I  gesse. 

And  therwithall  on  knees  adoun  he  fill, 
And  sayde :  Venus,  if  it  be  your  will 
You  in  this  gardin  thus  to  transfigure, 
Beforn  me  sorweful  wretched  creature, 
Out  of  this  prison  helpe  that  we  may  scape. 
And  if  so  be  our  destinee  be  shape 
By  eterne  word  to  dien  in  prison, 
Of  our  lignage1  have  som  compassion, 
That  is  so  low  ybrought  by  tyrannic 

And  with  that  word  Arcita  gan  espie 
Wher  as  this  lady  romed  to  and  fro. 
And  with  that  sight  hire  beautee  hurt  him  so, 
That  if  that  Palamon  were  wounded  sore, 
Arcite  is  hurt  as  moche  as  he,  or  more. 
And  with  a  sigh  he  sayde  pitously: 
The  freshe  beautee  sletlr  me  sodenly 
Of  hire  that  rometh  in  the  yonder  place. 
And  but  I  have3  hire  mercie  and  hire  grace, 
That  I  may  seen  hire  at  the  leste  way, 
I  n'am  but  ded  ;"*  ther  n'is  no  more  to  say. 

This  Palamon,  whan  he  these  wordes  herd, 
Dispitously  he  loked,  and  answerd : 
Whether  sayest  thoii  this  in  ernest  or  in  play  1 

Nay,  quod  Arcite,  in  ernest  by  my  fay.5 
God  helpe  me  so,  me  lust  full  yvel  pley. 

This  Palamon  gan  knit  his  browes  twey. 
It  were,  quod  he,  to  thee  no  gret  honour 
For  to  be  false,  ne  for  to  be  traytour 
To  me,  that  am  thy  cosin  and  thy  brother 
Ysworne  ful  depe,  and  eche  of  us  to  other, 


i  Lineage.  2  Slayeth.  3  If  I  have  not 

*  I  am  nought  but  a  dead  man.  *  Faith. 


1135-1172.  THE   KNIGHTES   TALE  35 

That  never  for  to  dien  in  the  peine, 
Til  that  the  deth  departen'  shal  us  tweine, 
Neyther  of  us  in  love  to  hindre  other, 
Ne  in  non  other  cas,  my  leve1  brother; 
But  that  thou  shuldest  trewely  forther  ma 
In  every  cas,  as  I  shuld  forther4  thee. 
This  was  thin  oth,  and  min  also  certain; 
I  wot  it  wel,  thou  darst  it  not  withsain. 
Thus  art  thou  of  my  conseil  out  of  doute. 
And  now  thou  woldest  falsly  ben  aboute 
To  love  my  lady,  whom  I  love  and  serve, 
And  ever  shal,  til  that  min  herte  sterve. 

Now  certes,  false  Arcite,  thou  shalt  no  so. 
I  loved  hire  firste,  and  tolde  thee  my  wo 
As  to  my  conseil,  and  my  brother  sworne 
To  forther  me,  as  I  have  told  beforne. 
For  which  thou  art  ybounden  as  a  knight 
To  helpen  me,  if  it  lie  in  thy  might, 
Or  elles  art  thou  false,  I  dare  wel  sain. 

This  Arcita  full  proudly  spake  again. 
Thou  shalt,  quod5  he,  be  rather  false  than  I. 
And  thou  art  false,  I  tell  thee  utterly. 
Forfar  amour*  I  loved  hire  first  or  thou.7 
What  wolt  thou  sayn  1  thou  wisted  nat  right  now 
Whether  she  were  a  woman  or  a  goddesse. 
Thin  is  affection  of  holinesse, 
And  min  is  love,  as  to  a  creature : 
For  which  I  tolde  thee  min  aventure 
As  to  my  cosin,  and  my  brother  sworne. 

I  pose,  that  thou  lovedest  hire  beforne: 
Wost  thou  not  wel  the  olde  clerkes  sawe, 
That  who  shall  give  a  lover  any  lawe? 
Love  is  a  greter  lawe  by  my  pan,8 
Then  may  be  yeven  of  any  erthly  man: 
And  therfore  positif  lawe,  and  swiche  decree 
Is  broken  all  day  for  love  in  eche  degree. 
A  man  moste  nedes  love  maugre  his  ned. 
He  may  not  fleen  it,  though  he  shuld  be  ded, 

1  So  in  Froissart,  v.  i.  c.  206.  Edward  III  declares  that  he  will  not 
return  "jusques  &  tant  qu'il  auroit  fui  de  guerre,  ou  paix  a  sa  suffisance, 
ou  a  son  grand  honneur,  ou  il  mourrait  en  la  peine." — Tyrwhitt. 

2  Separate.  3  Dear.  *  Forward. 

5  Quoth.  o  With  love.  7  Before  thou  didst. 

»  Skull. 


36  THE  CANTERBURY   TALES.  1173-121*. 

All  be  she  maid,  or  widewe,  or  elles  wif. 

And  eke  it  is  not  likely  all  thy  lif 
To  stonden  in  hire  grace,  no  more  shal  I: 
For  wel  thou  wost  thyselven  veraily, 
That  thou  and  I  be  damned  to  prison 
Perpetuel,  us  gaineth  no  raunson. 

We  strive,  as  did  the  houndes  for  the  bone, 
They  fought  all  day,  and  yet  hir  part  was  none. 
Ther  came  a  kyte,  while  that  they  were  so  wrothe, 
And  bare  away  the  bone  betwix  hem  bothe. 
And  therfore  at  the  kinges  court,  my  brother, 
Eche  man  for  himself,  ther  is  non  other. 
Love  if  thee  lust;  for  I  love,  and  ay  shal: 
And  sothly,  leve  brother,  this  is  al. 
Here  in  this  prison  mosten  we  endure, 
And  everich  of  us  take  his  aventure. 

Gret  was  the  strit,  and  long  betwix  hem  twey, 
It  that  I  hadde  leiser  for  to  sey : 
But  to  th'  effect.     It  happed  on  a  clay, 
(To  tell  it  you  as  shortly  as  I  may) 
A  worthy  duk  that  highte  Perithous, 
That  felaw  was  to  this  duk  Theseus 
Sin  thilke  day  that  they  were  children  lite,1 
"Was  cone  to  Athenes,  his  felaw  to  visite, 
And  for  to  play,  as  he  was  wont  to  do, 
For  in  this  world  he  loved  no  man  so : 
And  he  loved  him  as  tendrely  again. 
So  wel  they  loved,  as  olde  bokes  sain, 
That  whan  that  on  was  ded,  sothly  to  telle, 
His  felaw  wcnte  and  sought  him  doun  in  helle  : 
But  oi  that  storie  list  me  not  to  write. 

Duk  Perithous  loved  wel  Arcite, 
And  had  him  knowe  at  Thebes  yere  by  yere: 
And  finally  at  request  and  praiere 
Of  Perithous,  withouten  any  raunson 
Duk  Theseus  him  let  out  of  prison, 
Frelv  to  gon,  wher  that  him  list  over  all, 
In  swiche  a  gise,  as  I  you  tellen  shall. 

This  was  the  forword,-'  plainly  lor  to  endite, 
Betwixen  Theseus  and  him  Arcite  : 
That  if  so  were,  that  Arcite  were  yfound 
Ever  in  his  lif,  by  day  or  night,  o  stound 

1  Little.  s  Agreement,  covenant. 


1215-1252.  THE   KNIGHTES  TALE.  37 

In  any  contree  of  this  Theseus, 

And  he  were  caught,  it  was  accorded  thus, 

That  with  a  swerd  he  shulde  lese  his  hed ; 

Ther  was  non  other  remedie  ne  rede.1 

But  taketh  his  leve,  and  homeward  he  him  spedde ; 

Let  him  beware,  his  nekke  lieth  to  wedde.2 

How  gret  a  sorwe  suffereth  now  Arcite  ? 
The  deth  he  feleth  thurgh  his  herte  smite ; 
He  wepeth,  waileth,  crieth  pitously ; 
To  sleen  himselt  he  waiteth  prively. 
He  said ;  Alas  the  day  that  I  was  borne ! 
Now  is  my  prison  werse  than  beforne : 
Now  is  me  shape  eternally  to  dwelle 
Not  only  in  purgatorie,3  but  in  helle. 
Alas  !  that  ever  I  knew  Perithous. 
For  elles  had  I  dwelt  with  Theseus 
Yfetered  in  his  prison  evermo. 
Than  had  I  ben  in  blisse,  and  not  in  wo. 
Only  the  sight  of  hire,  whom  that  I  serve, 
Though  that  I  never  hire  grace  may  deserve, 
Wold  have  sufficed  right  ynough  for  me. 

O  dere  cosin  Palamon,  quod  he, 
Thin  is  the  victorie  of  this  aventure. 
Ful  blislul  in  pi-ison  maiest  thou  endure : 
In  prison  I  certes  nay,  but  in  paradise. 
Wei  hath  fortune  y turned  thee  the  dise, 
That  hast  the  sight  of  hire,  and  I  th'  absence. 
For  possible  is,  sin4  thou  hast  hire  presence, 
And  art  a  knight,  a  worthy  and  an  able, 
That  by  some  cas,  sin  fortune  is  changeable, 
Thou  maiest  to  thy  desir  somtime  atteine. 
But  I  that  am  exiled,  and  barreine 
Of  alle  grace,  and  in  so  gret  despaire, 
That  ther  n'is  erthe,  water,  fire,  ne  aire, 
Ne  creature,  that  of  hem  maked  is, 
That  may  me  hele,  or  don  comfort  in  this, 
Wei  ought  I  sterve  in  wanhope'  and  distresse. 
Farewel  my  lif,  my  lust,  and  my  gladnesse. 


1  Counsel,  plan  of  escape. 

2  Is  in  pawn, »'. e.,  his  life  is  at  stake. 

8  I  need  scarcely  observe  that  Shakspeare  has  committed  the  same 
anachronism  in  the  speech  of  the  ghost  in  "  Hamlet." 

4  For  sithen,  since,  6  Despair. 

4 


38  THE  CANTERBUHY  TALES.  1253-1294. 

Alas,  why  plainen1  men  so  in  commune 
Of  purveyance2  of  God,  or  of  fortune, 
That  yeveth  hem  ful  oft  in  many  a  gise 
Wei  better  than  they  can  hemself  devise  ? 
Som  man  desireth  for  to  have  richesse, 
That  cause  is  of  his  murdre  or  gret  siknesse, 
And  som  man  wold  out  of  his  prison  fayn. 
That  in  his  house  is  of  his  meinie3  slain. 
Infinite  harmes  ben  in  this  matere, 
We  wote  not  what  thing  that  we  praien  here. 
We  faren  as  he  that  dronke  is  as  a  mous. 
A  dronken  man  wot  wel  he  hath  an  hous, 
But  he  ne  wot  which  is  the  right  way  thider, 
And  to  a  dronken  man  the  way  is  slider.4 
And  certes  in  this  world  so  faren  we. 

We  seken  fast  after  felicite, 
But  we  go  wrong  ful  often  trewely. 
Thus  we  may  sayen  alle,  and  namely  I, 
That  wende,  and  had  a  gret  opinion, 
That  if  I  might  escapen  fro  prison 
Than  had  I  ben  in  joye  and  parfite  hele,5 
Ther  now  I  am  exiled  fro  my  wele. 
Sin  that  I  may  not  seen  you,  Emelie, 
I  n'  am  but  ded  ;  ther  n'  is  no  remedie. 

Upon  that  other  side  Palamon, 
Whan  that  he  wist  Arcita  was  agon, 
Swiche  sorwe  he  maketh,  that  the  grete  tour 
Besouned  of  his  yelling  and  clamour. 
The  pure  fetters6  on  his  shinnes  grete 
Were  of  his  bitter  salte  teres  wete. 

Alas !  quod  he,  Arcita  cosin  min, 
Of  all  our  strif,  God  wot,  the  frute  is  thin. 
Thou  walkest  now  in  Thebes  at  thy  large, 
And  of  my  wo  thou  yevest  litel  charge. 
Thou  maist,  sith  thou  hast  wisdom  and  manhede, 
Assemblen  all  the  folk  of  our  kinrede, 
And  make  a  werre  so  sharpe  on  this  contree, 
That  by  som  aventure,  or  som  tretee, 
Thou  maist  have  hire  to  lady  and  to  wif, 
For  whom  that  I  must  nedes  lese  my  lif. 
For  as  by  way  of  possibilitee, 
Sith  thou  art  at  thy  large  of  prison  free, 

1  Lament.  2  Providence.  3  Domestics,  servants. 

4  Slippery.  6  Perfect  health.  s  The  very  fetters. 


J  295-1332.  THE   KNIGHTES   TALE.  39 

And  art  a  lord,  grct  is  thin  a  vantage, 
More  than  is  min,  that  sterve  here  in  a  cage. 
For  I  may  wepe  and  waile,  while  that  I  live, 
With  all  the  wo  that  prison  may  me  yeve, 
And  eke  with  peine  that  love  me  yeveth  also, 
That  doubleth  all  my  tourment  and  my  wo. 

Therwith  the  fire  of  jalousie  up  sterte 
Within  his  brest,  and  hent  him  by  the  herto 
So  woodly,  that  he  like  was  to  behold 
The  box-tree,  or  the  ashen  ded  and  cold. 
Than  said  he  ;  O  cruel  goddes,  that  governe 
This  world  with  binding  of  your  word  eterne, 
And  writen  in  the  table  of  athamant 
Your  parlement1  and  your  eterne  grant, 
What  is  mankind  more  unto  you  yhold2 
Than  is  the  shepe,  that  rouketh3  in  the  fold  ? 
For  slain  is  man,  right  as  another  beest, 
And  dwelleth  eke  in  prison,  and  arrest, 
And  hath  siknesse,  and  gret  adversite, 
.     And  oftentimes  gilteles  parde.4 

What  governance  is  in  this  prescience, 
That  gilteles  turmenteth  innocence  1 
And  yet  encreseth  this  all  my  penance, 
That  man  is  bounden  to  his  observance 
For  Goddes  sake  to  leten  of  his  will, 
Ther  as  a  beest  may  all  his  lust  fulfill. 
And  whan  a  beest  is  ded,  he  hath  no  peine ; 
But  man  after  his  deth  mote  wepe  and  pleine, 
Though  in  this  world  he  have  care  and  wo : 
Withouten  doute  it  maye  stonden  so. 

The  answer  of  this  lete  I  to  divines, 
But  wel  I  wote,  that  in  this  world  gret  pine  is. 
Alas !  I  see  a  serpent  or  a  thefe, 
That  many  a  trewe  man  hath  do  meschefe, 
Gon  at  his  large,  and  wher  him  lust  may  turn. 
But  I  moste  ben  in  prison  thurgh  Saturn, 
And  eke  thurgh  Juno,  jalous  and  eke  wood,* 
That  hath  wel  neye  destruied  all  the  blood 

1  Your  counsel,  determination.  2  Beholden. 

3  Lieth  close.    So  Conf.  Ans.  72.    "But  now  they  rucken  in  her  nest. 

*  J.  e.  Pardieux,  "  a  common  French  oath,  which  most  of  the  person- 
ages in  Chaucer  express  very  frequently  in  English,  with  as  little 
ceremony  as  the  Greeks  used  their  ■  By  Jove,'  and  with  as  little  meaning 
too." — Ti/mhitt,  gl.  6  Mad. 


40  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  1333-1372. 

Of  Thebes,  with  his  waste  walles  wide. 
And  Venus  sleeth  me  on  that  other  side 
For  jalousie,  and  fere  of  him  Arcite. 

Now  wol  I  stent1  of  Palamon  a  lite, 
And  leten  him  in  his  prison  still  dwelle, 
And  of  Arcita  forth  I  wol  you  telle. 

The  sommer  passeth,  and  the  nightes  long 
Encresen  double  wise  the  peines  strong 
Both  of  the  lover,  and  of  the  prisoner. 
I  n'ot  which  hath  the  wofuller  mistere. 
For  shortly  for  to  say,  this  Palamon 
Perpetuelly  is  damned  to  prison, 
In  chaines  and  in  fetters  to  ben  ded; 
And  Arcite  is  exiled  on  his  hed2 
For  evermore  as  out  of  that  contree, 
Ne  never  more  he  shal  his  lady  see. 

You  lovers  axe  I  now  this  question, 
"Who  hath  the  werse,  Arcite  or  Palamon  ? 
That  on3  may  se  his  lady  day  by  day, 
But  in  prison  moste  he  dwellen  alway. 
That  other  wher  him  lust  may  ride  or  go, 
But  sen  his  lady  shall  he  ne  ver  mo. 
Now  demeth  as  you  liste,  ye  that  can, 
For  I  wol  tell  you  forth  as  I  began. 

Whan  that  Arcite  to  Thebes  comen  was, 
Ful  oft  a  day  he  swelt'  and  said  alas, 
For  sen  his  lady  shall  he  never  mo. 
And  shortly  to  concluden  all  his  wo, 
So  mochel  sorwe  hadde  never  creature, 
That  is  or  shal  be,  while  the  world  may  dure. 
His  slepe,  his  mete,  his  drinke  is  him  byraft, 
That  lene  he  wex,  and  drie  as  is  a  shaft.5 
His  eyen  holwe,  and  grisly  to  behold, 
His  hewe  falwe,6  and  pale  as  ashen  cold, 
And  solitary  he  was,  and  ever  alone, 
And  wailing  all  the  night,  making  his  mone. 
And  if  he  herde  song  or  instrument, 
Than  wold  he  wepe,  he  mighte  not  be  stent.7 
So  feble  were  his  spirites,  and  so  low, 
And  changed  so,  that  no  man  coude  know 

1  Cease  speaking  of.  s  I.  e.,  on  pain  of  his  life. 

*  One.  *  Fainted,  grew  sick  at  heart.  s  An  arrow. 

'  Complexion  sallow.  7  Restrained. 


1373-1103.  THE  KNIGIITES  TALE.  41 

His  speche  ne  his  vois,  though  men  it  herd. 
And  in  his  gere,  lor  all  the  world  he  ferd 
Nought  only  like  the  lovers  maladie 
Of  Kreos,1  but  rather  ylike  manic, 
Engendred  of  humours  melancolike, 
Beforne  his  hed  in  his  celle  fantastike. 
And  shortly  turned  was  all  up  so  doun 
Both  habit  and  eke  dispositioun 
Of  him,  this  woful  lover  dan  Arcite. 
What  shuld  I  all  day  of  his  wo  endite  ? 

Whan  he  endured  had  a  yere  or  two 
This  cruel  torment,  and  this  peine  and  wo, 
At  Thebes,  in  his  contree,  as  I  said, 
Upon  a  night  in  slepe  as  he  him  laid, 
Him  thought  how  that  the  winged  god  Mercury 
Beforne  him  stood,  and  bad  him  to  be  mery. 
His  sleepy  yerde-  in  hond  he  bare  upright ; 
An  hat  he  wered  upon  his  heres  bright. 
Arraied  was  this  god  (as  he  toke  kepe)    ' 
As  he  was  whan  that  Argus3  toke  his  slepe  ; 
And  said  him  thus :  To  Athenes  shalt  thou  wende ; 
Ther  is  thee  shapen  of  thy  wo  an  ende. 

And  with  that  word  Arcite  awoke  and  stert. 
Now  trewely  how  sore  that  ever  me  smert, 
Quod  he,  to  Athenes  right  now  wol  I  fare. 
Ne  for  no  drede  of  deth  shal  I  not  spare 
To  se  my  lady,  that  I  love  and  serve  ; 
In  hire  presence  I  rekke  not  to  sterve. 
And  with  that  word  he  caught  a  great  mirrour, 
And  saw  that  changed  was  all  his  colour, 
And  saw  his  visage  all  in  another  kind. 
And  right  anon  it  ran  him  in  his  mind, 
That  sith  his  face  was  so  disfigured 
Of  maladie  the  which  he  had  endured, 
He  mighte  wel,  if  that  he  bare  him  lowe, 
Live  in  Athenes  evermore  unknowe, 

1  For  Eros,  the  Greek  name  of  Love. 

*  I.e.,  bis  caduceus,  or  wand, 

"  The  golden  wand,  that  causes  sleep  to  fly, 
Or  in  s ••('•.  dumber  senls  the  wakeful  eye, 
1  hat  drives  the  ghosts  to  realms  of  night  or  day, 
Points  out  the  long  uncomfortable  way." 

l'ope'8  Odyssey,  bk.  24. 

*  Mercury  succeeded  in  closing  his  hundred  eyes,  and  then  slew  him. 

4  Humbly. 
4* 


42  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  1409-144*. 

And  sen  his  lady  wel  nigh  day  by  day. 
And  right  anon  he  changed  his  aray, 
And  clad  him  as  a  poure  labourer. 
And  all  alone,  save  only  a  squier, 
That  knew  his  privitee  and  all  his  cas, 
Which  was  disguised  pourely  as  he  was, 
To  Athenes  is  he  gon  the  nexte  way. 
And  to  the  court  he  went  upon  a  day, 
And  at  the  gate  he  proffered  his  service, 
To  drugge1  and  draw,  what  so  men  wold  devise* 
And  shortly  of  this  matere  for  to  sayn, 
He  fell  in  office  with  a  chamberlain, 
The  which  that  dwelling  was  with  Emelie. 
For  he  was  wise,  and  coude  sone  espie 
Of  every  servant,  which  that  served  hire. 
Wei  coude  he  hewen  wood,  and  water  bere, 
For  he  was  yonge  and  mighty  for  the  nones, 
And  therto  he  was  strong  and  big  of  bones 
To  don  that  any  wight  can  him  devise. 
A  yere  or  two  he  was  in  this  service, 
Page  of  the  chambre  of  Emelie  the  bright; 
And  Philostrate2  he  sayde  that  he  hight. 
But  half  so  wel  beloved  a  man  as  he, 
Ne  was  ther  never  in  court  of  his  degre. 
He  was  so  gentil  of  conditioun, 
That  thurghout  all  the  court  was  his  renoun. 
They  sayden  that  it  were  a  charite 
That  Theseus  wold  enhaunsen  his  degre, 
And  putten  him  in  worshipful  service, 
Ther  as  he  might  his  vertues  exercise. 
And  thus  within  a  while  his  name  is  spronge 
Both  of  his  dedes,  and  of  his  good  tonge, 
That  Theseus  hath  taken  him  of  ner3 
That  of  his  chambre  he  made  him  a  squier, 
And  gave  him  gold  to  maiuteine  his  degre; 
And  eke  men  brought  him  out  of  his  contre 

1  Drag. 
2  In  the  Theseida  Arcite  takes  the  name  of  Pentheo.  See  the  Dis- 
course, &c,  p.  S3.  The  name  of  Fhilostrate  might  be  suggested  to 
Chaucer,  either  by  Boccace's  poem  entitled  Philostrato,  or  by  the 
Decameron,  in  which  one  of  the  characters  is  so  called.  In  the  Mid- 
rummer  Night's  Dream,  of  which  the  principal  subject  is  plainly  taken 
from  this  tale,  a  Fhilostrate  is  also  introduced,  as  a  favourite  servant  of 
Theseus  and  master  of  his  sports. — Tynchitt. 

*  Nearer  his  person,  into  more  confidential  service. 


1445-H80.  THE   KNIGIITES  TALE.  43 

Fro  yere  to  yere  ful  prively1  his  rent. 
But  honestly  and  sleighly  he  it  spent, 
That  no  man  wondred  how  that  he  it  hadde. 
And  thre  yere  in  this  wise  his  life  he  ladde, 
And  bare  him  so  in  pees  and  eke  in  werre, 
Ther  n'as  no  man  that  Theseus  hath  derre. 
And  in  this  blisse  let  I  now  Arcite, 
And  speke  I  wol  of  Palamon  a  lite. 

In  derkenesse  and  horrible  and  strong  prison 
This  seven  yere  hath  sitten  Palamon, 
Forpined,  what  for  love  and  for  distresse. 
Who  feleth  double  sorwe  and  hevinesse 
But  Palamon  ?  that  love  distraineth  so,  . 
That  wood2  out  of  his  wit  he  goth  for  wo, 
And  eke  therto  he  is  a  prisonere 
Perpetuell,  not  only  for  a  yere. 

Who  coude  rime  in  English  proprely 
His  martirdom  ?  forsoth  it  am  not  I, 
Therfore  I  passe  as  lightly  as  I  may. 
It  fell  that  in  the  seventh  yere  in  May 
The  thndde  night,  (as  olde  bokes  sayn, 
That  all  this  storie  tellen  more  plain) 
Were  it  by  aventure  or  destinee, 
(As,  whan  a  thing  is  shapen,  it  shal  be,) 
That  sone  after  the  midnight,  Palamon 
By  helping  of  a  frend  brake  his  prison, 
And  fleeth  the  cite  faste  as  he  may  go, 
For  he  had  yeven  drinke  his  gayler  so 
Of  a  clarre,8  made  of  a  certain  wine, 
With  Narcotikes  and  Opie  of  Thebes  fine, 
That  all  the  night  though  that  men  wold  him  shake, 
The  gailer  slept,  he  mighte  not  awake. 
And  thus  he  fleeth  as  faste  as  ever  he  may.        „  .  v 

The  night  was  short,  and  faste  by  the  day, 
That  nedes  cost4  he  moste  himselven  hide. 
And  to  a  grove  faste  ther  beside 

»  Privately.  2  Mad. 

3  Wine  mixed  with  honey  and  spices,  and  afterwards  strained  till  it 
is  dear. — Tyrwhitt,  gl. 

4  That  nedes  cost.  The  sense  of  this  passage,  as  it  stands  in  the 
MSS.,  is  so  obscure,  that  I  am  inclined  to  adopt  the  alteration  proposed 
in  Gl.  Urr.  v.  Nede.  That  nedes  cast  he  moste  himselven  hide;  ».  «., 
that  he  must  needs  cast,  or  contrive,  to  hide  himself.  But  I  find  the 
same  expression  in  L.  W.  2686. 

-  Or  nedes  coste  this  thing  mote  have  an  endc." — Ttfrwhitt. 


44  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  1481-1522. 

With  dredful  foot1  than  stalketh  Palamon. 

For  shortly  this  was  his  opinion, 

That  in  that  grove  he  wold  him  hide  all  day, 

And  in  the  night  than  wold  he  take  his  way 

To  Thebes  wai'd,  his  frendes  for  to  preie 

On  Theseus  to  helpen  him  to  werreie.2 

And  shortly,  eyther  he  wold  lese  his  lif, 

Or  winnen  Emelie  unto  his  wif. 

This  is  the  effect,  and  his  entente  plein. 

Now  wol  I  turnen  to  Arcite  agein, 
That  litel  wist  how  neighe  was  his  care, 
Til  that  fortune  had  brought  him  in  the  snare. 
The  besy  larke,  the  messager  of  day, 
Saleweth3  in  hire  song  the  morwe  gray; 
And  firy  Phebus  riseth  up  so  bright, 
That  all  the  orient  laugheth  of  the  sight, 
-And  with  his  stremes  drieth  in  the  greves 
The  silver  dropes,  hanging  on  the  leves, 
And  Arcite,  that  is  in  the  court  real4 
With  Theseus  the  squier  principal, 
Is  risen,  and  loketh  on  the  mery  day. 
And  for  to  don  his  observance  to  May, 
Eemembring  on  the  point  of  his  desire, 
He  on  his  courser,  sterting  as  the  fire, 
Is  ridden  to  the  feldes  him  to  pley, 
Out  of  the  court,  were  it  a  mile  or  twey. 
And  to  the  grove  of  which  that  I  you  told, 
By  aventure  his  way  he  gan  to  hold, 
To  maken  him  a  gerlond  of  the  greves, 
Were  it  of  woodbind  or  oi  hau thorn  leves, 
And  loud  he  song  agen  the  sonne  sheue. 

O  Maye,  with  all  thy  floures  and  thy  grene, 
Eight  welcome  be  thou  faire  freshe  May, 
I  hope  that  I  some  grene  here  getten  may. 
And  from  his  courser,  with  a  lusty  herte 
Into  the  grove  ful  hastily  he  sterte, 
And  in  a  path  he  romed  up  and  doun, 
Ther  as  by  aventure  this  Palamon 
Was  in  a  bush,  that  no  man  might  him  se, 
For  sore  aiered  of  his  deth  was  he. 
Nothing  ne  knew  he  that  it  was  Arcite. 
God  wot  he  wold  have  trowed  it  ful  lite. 

»  Timid,  stealthy.  8  Make  war. 

3  Salutes.  4  Royal 


15£3-15G0.  THE   KNIGI1TES  TALE.  45 

But  soth  is  said,  gon  sithen  are  many  yeres, 
That  feld  hath  eyen,  and  the  wood  hath  eres. 
It  is  iul  iaire  a  man  to  bere  him  even, 
For  al  day  meten  men  at  unset  steven.1 
Ful  litel  wote  Arcite  oi  his  ielaw, 
That  was  so  neigh  to  herken  of  his  saw, 
For  in  the  bush  he  sitteth  now  ful  still. 

Whan  that  Arcite  had  romed  all  his  fill, 
And  songen  all  the  roundel2  lustily, 
Into  a  studie  he  fell  sodenly, 
As  don  these  lovers  in  hir  queintc  geres,8 
Now  in  the  crop,4  and  now  doun  in  the  breres, 
Now  up,  now  doun,  as  boket  in  a  well. 
Right  as  the  Friday,  sothly  for  to  tell, 
Now  shineth  it,  and  now  it  raiueth  last, 
Eight  so  can  gery6  Venus  overcast 
The  hertes  of  hire  folk,  right  as  hire  day 
Is  gerfull,  right  so  changeth  she  aray. 

Selde  is  the  Friday  all  the  weke  ylike.  . 

Whan  Arcite  hadde  ysonge,  he  gan  to  sike/ 
And  set  him  doun  withouten  any  more : 
Alas !  (quod  he)  the  day  that  I  was  bore  ! 
How  longe,  Juno,  thurgh  thy  crueltee 
Wilt  thou  werrein  Thebes  the  citee  1 
Alas !  ybrought  is  to  confusion 
The  blood  real  of  Cadme  and  Amphion : 
Of  Cadmus,  which  that  was  the  firste  man, 
That  Thebes  built,  or  firste  the  toun  began, 
And  of  the  citee  firste  was  crouned  king. 
Of  his  linage  am  I,  and  his  ofspring 
By  veray  line,  as  of  the  stok  real : 
And  now  I  am  so  caitif  and  so  thral,8 
That  he  that  is  my  mortal  enemy, 
I  serve  him  as  his  squier  pburely. 
And  yet  doth  Juno  me  wel  more  shame, 
For  1  dare  not  beknowe9  inin  own  name, 
But  ther  as  I  was  wont  to  highte  Arcite, 
Now  highte  I  Philostrat,  not  worth  a  mite. 
Alas !  thou  fell  Mars !  alas !  thou  Juno, 
Thus  hath  your  ire  our  linage  all  fordo, 

1  A  time  for  performing  any  action,  previously  fixed  by  message, 
order,  summons,  &c — Tyrivhitt. 

3  Or  rondel,  "  a  rime  or  sonnet,  which  ends  as  it  begins." — Cotgrave. 

8  Strang*  fashions.  4  I  he  top:  6  Briars. 

•  Changeable,  inconstant.  '  Ball.  8  A  slave,  a  villain 

9  Acknowledge. 


46  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  1561-]598. 

Save  only  me,  and  wretched  Palamon, 

That  Theseus  martireth  in  prison. 

And  over  all  this,  to  slen  me  utterly, 

Love  hath  his  firy  dart  so  brenningly 

Ystiked1  thurgh  my  trewe  careful  hert, 

That  shapen  was  my  deth  erst  than  my  shert.* 

Ye  slen  me  with  your  eyen,  Emelie ; 

Ye  ben  the  cause  wherfore  that  I  die. 

Of  all  the  remenant  of  min  other  care 

Ne  set  I  not  the  mountance3  of  a  tare, 

So  that  I  coud  don  ought  to  your  plesance. 

And  with  that  word  he  fell  doun  in  a  trance 
A  longe  time ;  and  afterward  up  sterte 
This  Palamon,  that  thought  thurghout  his  herte 
He  felt  a  colde  swerd  sodenly  glide : 
For  ire  he  quoke,  no  lenger  wolde  he  hide. 
And  whan  that  he  had  herd  Arcites  tale, 
As  he  were  wood,  with  face  ded  and  pale, 
He  sterte  him  up  out  of  the  bushes  thikke, 
And  sayde :  False  Arcite,  false  traitour  wicke, 
Now  art  thou  hent,  that  lovest  my  lady  so, 
For  whom  that  I  have  all  this  peine  and  wo, 
And  art  my  blood,  and  to  my  conseil  sworn, 
As  I  ful  oft  have  told  thee  herebeforn, 
And  hast  bejaped4  her  duk  Theseus, 
And  falsely  changed  hast  thy  name  thus ; 
I  wol  be  ded,  or  elles  thou  shalt  die. 
Thou  shalt  not  love  my  lady  Emelie, 
But  I  wol  love  hire  only  and  no  mo. 
For  I  am  Palamon  thy  mortal  fo. 
And  though  that  I  no  wepen  have  in  this  place, 
But  out  of  prison  am  astert  by  grace, 
I  drede  nought,  that  eyther  thou  shalt  die, 
Or  thou  ne  shalt  nat  loven  Emelie. 
Chese  which  thou  wolt,  for  thou  shalt  not  asterte.* 

This  Arcite  tho,  with  ful  dispitous  herte, 
Whan  he  him  knew,  and  had  his  tale  herd, 
As  fers  as  a  leon,  pulled  out  a  swerd, 

1  Pierced,  plunged. 
s  Tyrwhitt  (in  gl.)  compares  T.  iii.  734 : 

*'  O  fatal  sustren,  which,  or  any  clothe 
Me  shapen  was,  my  destinee  ne  sponne.* 
AndL.  W.  2618: 

"  Sens  first  that  day,  that  shapen  teas  my  sherte. 
Or  by  the  fatal  sister  had  my  dome." 
*  Amount,  value.  4  Tricked.  »  Escape. 


1599-1640.  THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  47 

And  sayde  thus ;  By  God  that  sitteth  ahove, 
N'ere  it  that  thou  art  sike,  and  wood  for  love, 
And  eke  that  thou  no  wepen  hast  in  this  place, 
Thou  shuldest  never  out  of  this  grove  pace, 
That  thou  ne  shuldest  dien  of  min  hond. 
For  I  defie  the  suretee  and  the  bond, 
Which  that  thou  saist  that  I  have  made  to  thee. 
What  1  veray  fool,  thinke  wel  that  love  is  free, 
And  I  wol  love  hire  maugre1  all  thy  might. 
But,  for  thou  art  a  worthy  gentil  knight, 
And  wilnest  to  darraine2  hire  by  bataille, 
Have  here  my  trouth,  to-morwe  I  will  not  faille, 
Withouten  weting  of  any  other  wight, 
That  here  I  wol  be  founden  as  a  knight, 
And  bringen  harneis  right  ynough  for  thee ; 
And  chese  the  beste,  and  leve  the  werste  for  me. 
And  mete  and  drinke  this  night  wol  I  bring 
Ynough  for  thee,  and  clothes  for  thy  bedding. 
And  if  so  be  that  thou  my  lady  win, 
And  sle  me  in  this  wode,  ther  I  am  in, 
Thou  maist  wel  have  thy  lady  as  for  me. 

This  Palamon  answerd,  I  grant  it  thee. 
Aud  thus  they  ben  departed  til  a-morwe, 
Whan  eche  of  hem  hath  laid  his  faith  to  borwe. 

O  Cupide,  out  of  alle  charitee! 
O  regne,3  that  wolt  no  felaw  have  with  theel 
Ful  soth  is  sayde,  that  love  ne  lordship 
Wol  nat,  his  thankes,4  have  no  felawship. 
Wel  finden  that  Arcite  and  Palamon. 

Arcite  is  ridden  anon  unto  the  toun, 
And  on  the  morwe,  or  it  were  day  light, 
Ful  prively  two  harneis  hath  he  dight, 
Both  suffisant  and  mete  to  darreine 
The  bataille  in  the  feld  betwix  hem  tweine. 
And  on  his  hors,  alone  as  he  was  borne, 
He  carieth  all  this  harneis  him  beforne ; 
And  in  the  grove,  at  time  and  place  ysette, 
This  Arcite  and  this  Palamon  ben  mette. 
Tho  changen  gan  the  colour  of  hir  face. 
Bight  as  the  hunter  in  the  regne  of  Trace 
That  stondeth  at  a  gappe  with  a  spere, 
Whan  hunted  is  the  lion  or  the  bere, 

1  Despite.  8  Contend  for. 

»  King.  «  With  bis  good  will. 


48  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  1641-1682. 

And  hereth  him  come  rushing  in  the  greves,1 
And  breking  bothe  the  boughes  and  the  leves, 
And  thinketh,  here  cometh  my  mortal  enemy, 
Withouten  faille,  he  must  be  ded  or  I ; 
For  eyther  I  mote  slen  him  at  the  gappe; 
Or  he  mote  slen  me,  if  that  me  mishappe: 
So  ferden2  they,  in  changing  of  hir  hewe, 
As  fer  as  eyther  of  hem  other  knewe. 
Ther  n'as  no  good  day,  ne  no  saluing. 
But  streit  withouten  wordes  rehersing, 
Everich  of  hem  halpe  to  armen  other, 
As  frendly,  as  he  were  his  owen  brother. 
And  after  that,  with  sharpe  speres  strong 
They  foineden3  eche  at  other  wonder  long. 
Thou  mightest  wenen,  that  this  Palanion 
In  his  fighting  were  as  a  wood  leon, 
And  as  a  cruel  tigre  was  Arcite: 
As  wilde  bores  gan  they  togeder  smite, 
That  frothen  white  as  fome  for  ire  wood. 
Up  to  the  ancle  foughte  they  in  hir  blood. 
And  in  this  wise  I  let  hem  fighting  dwelle, 
And  forth  I  wol  of  Theseus  you  telle. 

The  destinee,  ministre  general, 
That  executeth  in  the  world  over  al 
The  purveiance,  that  God  hath  sen  beforne ; 
So  strong  it  is,  that  though  the  world  had  sworn© 
The  contrary  of  a  thing  by  ya  or  nay, 
Yet  somtime  it  shall  fallen  on  a  day 
That  falleth  nat  efte  in  a  thousand  yere. 
For  certainly  our  appetites  here, 
Be  it  of  werre,  or  pees,  or  hate,  or  love, 
All  is  this  ruled  by  the  sight  above. 
This  mene  I  now  by  mighty  Theseus, 
That  for  to  hunten  is  so  desirous, 
And  namely  at  the  grete  hart  in  May, 
That  in  his  bed  ther  daweth4  him  no  day, 
That  he  n'is  clad,  and  redy  for  to  ride 
With  hunte  and  home,  and  houndes  him  beside. 
For  in  his  hunting  hath  he  swiche  delite, 
That  it  is  all  his  joye  and  appetite 
To  ben  himselt  the  grete  hartes  bane, 
For  after  Mars  he  serveth  now  Diane. 

i  Groves.  a  Fared. 

3  Made  passes  at  each  other.  *  Dawneth. 


1 

j 

m3 


*» 


I 


■i 


■&  s> 


L683-1722.  THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  49 

Clere  was  the  day,  as  I  have  told  or  this, 
And  Theseus,  with  alle  joye  and  blis, 
With  his  Ipolita,  the  fayre  quene, 
And  Emelie,  yclothed  all  in  grene, 
On  hunting  ben  they  ridden  really. 
And  to  the  grove,  that  stood  ther  faste  by, 
In  which  ther  was  an  hart  as  men  him  told, 
Duk  Theseus  the  streite  way  hath  hold. 
And  to  the  launde  he  rideth  him  ful  right, 
Ther  was  the  hart  ywont  to  have  his  flight, 
And  over  a  brooke,  and  so  forth  on  his  wey. 
This  duk  wol  have  a  cours  at  him  or  twey 
With  houndes,  swiche  as  him  lust  to  commaunde. 
And  when  this  duk  was  comen  to  the  launde, 
Under  the  sonne  he  loked,  and  anon 
He  was  ware  of  Arcite  and  Palamon, 
That  foughten  breme,1  as  it  were  bolles2  two. 
The  brighte  swerdes  wenten  to  and  fro 
So  hidously,  that  with  the  leste  stroke 
It  semed  that  it  wolde  telle  an  oke. 
But  what  they  weren,  nothing  he  ne  wote. 
This  duk  his  courser  with  his  sporres  smote, 
And  at  a  stert  he  was  betwix  hem  two, 
And  pulled  out  a  swerd  and  cried,  ho  ! 
No  more,  up  peine  of  lesing  oi  your  hed. 
By  mighty  Mars,  he  shal  anon  be  ded, 
That  smite th  any  stroke,  that  I  may  sen. 
But  telleth  me  what  mistere3  men  ye  ben, 
That  ben  so  hardy  for  to  tighten  here 
Withouten  any  juge  other  officere, 
As  though  it  were  in  listes  really. 

This  Palamon  answered  hastily, 
And  saide :  Sire,  what  ncdeth  wordes  mo  ? 
We  have  the  deth  deserved  bothe  two. 
Two  woful  wretches  ben  we,  two  caitives, 
That  ben  accombred4  oi  our  owen  lives, 
And  as  thou  art  a  rightful  lord  and  juge, 
'  Ne  yeve  us  neyther  mercie  ne  refuge. 

1  Furiously. 
8  Bulls.      This    is    a  very    frequent    comparison   with  the    poeU, 
•specially  when  describing  a  quarrel  about  a  love  affair. 

8  What  manner  of  men,  of  what  profession.      4  Tired. 
5 


50  THE   CANTERBURY   TALES.  1723-1762. 

And  sle  me  first,  for  seinte  charitee. 

But  sle  my  felaw  eke  as  wel  as  me. 

Or  sle  him  first;  for,  though  thou  know  it  lite,1 

This  is  thy  mortal  fo,  this  is  Arcite, 

That  fro  thy  lond  is  banished  on  his  hed, 

For  which  he  hath  deserved  to  be  ded. 

For  this  is  he  that  came  unto  thy  gate 

And  sayde.  that  he  highte  Philostrate. 

Thus  hath  he  japed2  thee  ful  many  a  yere, 

And  thou  hast  maked  him  thy  chief  squiere, 

And  this  is  he,  that  loveth  Emelie. 

For  sith  the  day  is  come  that  I  shal  die 
I  make  plainly  my  contession, 
That  I  am  thilke  woful  Palamon, 
That  hath  thy  prison  broken  wiliully. 
I  am  thy  mortal  fo,  and  it  am  I 
That  loveth  so  hot  Emelie  the  bright, 
That  I  wold  dien  present  in  hire  sight* 
Therfore  I  axe  deth  and  my  jewise.3 
But  sle  my  felaw  in  the  same  wise, 
For  both  we  have  deserved  to  be  slain. 

This  worthy  duk  answerd  anon  again, 
And  sayd,  This  is  a  short  conclusion. 
Your  owen  mouth,  by  your  confession 
Hath  damned  you,  and  I  wol  it  recorde. 
It  needeth  not  to  peine  you  with  the  corde. 
Ye  shul  be  ded  by  mighty  Mars  the  rede.4 

The  quene  anon  for  veray  womanhede 
Gan  for  to  wepe,  and  so  did  Emelie, 
And  all  the  ladies  in  the  compagnie. 
Gret  pite  was  it,  as  it  thought  hem  alle, 
That  ever  swiche  a  chance  shulde  befalle. 
For  gentil  men  they  were  of  great  estat, 
And  nothing  but  for  love  was  this  debat. 
And  sawe  hir  blody  woundes  wide  and  sore ; 
And  alle  criden  bothe  lesse  and  more, 
Have  mercie,  Lord,  upon  us  wimmen  alle. 
And  on  hii  bare  kuees  adoun  they  falle, 
And  wold  have  kist  his  feet  ther  as  he  stood, 
Till  at  the  last,  aslaked3  was  his  mood  ; 

»  Thou  little  knowest  it.  2  Tricked 

»  Punisnment,  a  corruption  of  "justice,"  or  of  the  Latin  "judicium." 

*  ked,  i.  e.  bloody.  5  Relaxed,  softened. 


1763-1804.  THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  51 

(For  pitee  renneth  sone  in  gentil  herte) 

And  though  he  first  for  ire  quoke1  and  sterte,' 

He  hath  considered  shortly  in  a  clause 

The  trespas  oi  hem  both,  and  eke  the  cause: 

And  although  that  his  ire  hir  gilt  accused, 

Yet  in  his  reson  he  hem  both  excused ; 

As  thuS ;  he  thoughte  wel  that  every  man 

Wol  helpe  himsell  in  love  if  that  he  can, 

And  eke  deliver  himseli  out  of  prison. 

And  eke  his  herte  had  compassion 

Of  wimmen,  for  they  wepten  ever  in  on  :3 

And  in  his  gentil  herte  he  thoughte  anon, 

And  soft  unto  himself  he  sayed :  fie 

Upon  a  lord  that  wol  have  no  mercie, 

But  be  a  leon  both  in  word  and  dede, 

To  hem  that  ben  in  repentance  and  drede, 

As  wel  as  to  a  proud  dispitous  man, 

That  wol  mainteinen  that*  he  first  began. 

That  lord  hath  litel  of  discretion, 

That  in  swiche  cas  can  no  division : 

But  weigheth  pride  and  humblesse  after  on.$ 

And  shortly,  whan  his  ire  is  thus  agon, 

He  gan  to  loken  up  with  eyen  light, 

And  spake  these  same  wordes  all  on  hight. 

The  god  of  love,  a !  benedicite, 
How  mighty  and  how  grete  a  lord  is  he  ? 
Again  his  might  their  gainen  non  obstacles, 
He  may  be  cleped  a  God  for  his  miracles. 
For  he  can  maken  at  his  owen  gise 
Of  everich  herte,  as  that  him  list  devise. 
Lo  here  this  Arcite,  and  this  Palamon, 
That  quitely6  weren  out  of  my  prison, 
And  might  have  lived  in  Thebes  really, 
And  weten7  I  am  hir  mortal  enemy, 
And  that  hir  deth  lith  in  my  might  also, 
•  And  yet  hath  love,  maugre  hir  eyen  two, 
Ybrought  hem  hither  bothe  for  to  die. 
Now  loketh,  is  not  this  an  heigh  folic  ? 
Who  maye  ben  a  fool,  but  if  he  love? 
Behold  for  Goddes  sake  that  sitteth  above, 
Se  how  they  blede!  be  they  not  wel  araied? 
Thus  hath  hir  lord,  the  god  of  love,  hem  paied 

»  Shock.  a  Started.  3  Together. 

4  What.  ■  As  the  same.  •  Freely.        1  Knew. 


52  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  1805-1846. 

Hir  wages,  and  hir  fees  for  hir  service. 
And  yet  they  wenen  for  to  be  ful  wise, 
That  serven  love,  for  ought  that  may  befalle. 
And  yet  is  this  the  beste  game  of  alle, 
That  she,  for  whom  they  have  this  jolke, 
Con  hem  therfore  as  mochel  thank  as  me. 
She  wot  no  more  of  alle  this  hote  fare      • 
By  God,  than  wot  a  cuckow  or  an  hare. 
But  all  mote  ben  assaied  hote  or  cold ; 
A  man  mote  ben  a  fool  other  yonge  or  old; 
I  wot  it  by  myself  ful  yore  agon : 
For  in  my  time  a  servant  was  I  on. 
And  therfore  sith  I  know  of  loves  peine, 
And  wot  how  sore  it  can  a  man  destreine, 
As  he  that  oft  hath  ben  caught  in  his  las,1 
I  you  foryeve  all  holly  this  trespas, 
At  request  of  the  quene  that  kneleth  here, 
And  eke  of  Emelie,  my  suster  dere. 
And  ye  shul  bothe  anon  unto  me  swere, 
That  never  mo  ye  shul  my  contree  dere,a 
Ne  maken  werre  upon  me  night  ne  day, 
But  ben  my  frendes  in  alle  that  ye  may. 
I  you  foryeve  this  trespas  every  del,3 
And  they  him  sware  his  axing  fayr  and  wel, 
And  him  of  lordship  and  ol  mercie  praid, 
And  he  hem  granted  grace,  and  thus  he  said: 

To  speke  of  real  linage  and  richesse, 
Though  that  she  were  a  quene  or  a  princesse, 
Eche  of  you  bothe  is  worthy  douteles 
To  wedden  whan  time  is,  but  natheles 
I  speke  as  for  my  sttster  Emelie, 
For  whom  ye  have  this  strif  and  jalousie, 
Ye  wot  yourself,  she  may  not  wedden  two 
At  ones,  though  ye  fighten  evermo: 
But  on  of  you,  al  be  him  loth  or  lefe, 
He  mot  gon  pipen  in  an  ivy  lefe:4 
This  is  to  say,  she  may  not  have  you  bothe, 
Al  be  ye  never  so  jalous,  ne  so  wrothe. 
And  forthy5  I  you  put  in  this  degree, 
That  eche  of  you  shall  have  his  destinee, 
As  him  is  shape,6  andherkneth  in  what  wise; 
Lo  here  your  ende  ot  that  I  shal  devise. 

1  Snare.  2  Hurt.  3  Entirely. 

*  A  proverb  expressive  of  disappointment.        5  Therefore.        6  Fit. 


1847-1858.  THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  53 

My  will  is  this  for  plat1  conclusion 
Withouten  any  replication, 
Ii  that  you  likcth,  take  it  for  the  beste, 
That  everich  of  you  shal  gon  wher  him  leste 
Freely  withouten  raunson  or  dangere ; 
And  this  day  fifty  wekes,  ferre  ne  nere,2 
Everich  of  you  shal  bring  an  hundred  knightes, 
Armed  for  listes  up  at  alle  rightes 
Alle  redy  to  darrein3  hire  by  bataille. 
And  this  behete  I  you  withouten  faille 
Upon  my  trouth,  and  as  I  am  a  knight, 
That  whether  of  you  bothe  hath  that  might, 

1  Plain. 

2  Far  or  near.  The  following  remarks,  in  Notes  and  Queries,  v.  ill. 
p.  202,  are  very  important : — "  With  respect  to  the  time  of  year  at  which 
the  tournament  takes  place,  there  seems  to  be  an  inconsistency." 
Theseus  fixes  '  this  day  fifty  wekes*  from  the  fourth  of  May,  as  the  day 
on  which  the  final  contention  must  come  off,  and  yet  the  day  previous 
to  the  final  contention  is  afterwards  alluded  to  as  "the  lusty  season  of 
that  May"  which,  it  is  needless  to  say,  would  be  inconsistent  with  an 
interval  of  fifty  ordinary  weeks. 

"  But  fifty  weeks,  if  taken  in  their  literal  sense  of  350  days,  would  be 
a  most  unmeaning  interval  for  Theseus  to  fix  upon, — it  would  a'  lost 
require  explanation  as  much  as  the  difficulty  ifscM ;  it  is  therefore  much 
easier  to  suppose  that  Chaucer  meant  to  imply  the  interval  of  a  solar  year. 
Why  he  should  choose  to  express  that  interval  by  fifty,  rather  than  by 
fifty-two,  weeks  may  be  surmised  in  two  ways :  first,  because  the  latter 
phrase  would  be  unpoetical  and  unmanageable ;  and  secondly,  because 
he  might  fancy  that  the  week  of  the  Pagan  Theseus  would  be  more 
appropriately  represented  by  a  lunar  quarter  than  by  a  Jewish  heb- 
domad. 

"  Chaucer  sometimes  makes  the  strangest  jumble— mixing  up  together 
pagan  matters  and  Christian,  Roman  and  Grecian,  ancient  and  modern ; 
so  that,  although  he  names  Sunday  and  Monday  as  two  of  the  days  of 
the  week  in  Athens,  he  docs  so  evidently  for  the  purpose  of  introducing 
the  allocation  of  the  hours,  alluded  to  before,  to  which  the  planetary 
names  of  the  days  of  the  week  were  absolutely  necessary.  But  in  the 
fifty  weeks  appointed  by  Theseus,  the  very  same  love  of  a  little  dis- 
play of  erudition  would  lead  Chaucer  to  choose  the  hebdomas  luna\  or 
lunar  quarter,  which  the  Athenian  youth  were  wont  to  mark  out  by  the 
celebration  of  a  feast  to  Apollo  on  every  seventh  day  of  the  moon.  But 
after  the  first  twenty-eight  days  of  every  lunar  month,  the  weekly 
reckoning  must  have  been  discontinued  for  about  a  day  and  a  half 
(when  the  new  moon  was  what  was  called  'in  coitu,'  or  invisible)  after 
which  a  new  reckoning  of  sevens  would  recommence.  Hence  there 
could  be  but  four  hebdomadcs  in  each  lunar  month;  and  as  there  are 
about  twelve  and  a  half  lunar  months  in  a  solar  year,  so  must  there 
have  been  fifty  lunar  weeks  in  one  solar  year  " 
3  Desregne,  to  contend. 
5* 


54  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES.  1859-1900. 

This  is  to  sayn,  that  whether  he  or  thou 
May  with  his  hundred,  as  I  spake  ot  now, 
Sle  his  contrary,  or  out  of  listes  drive, 
Him  shall  I  yeven  Emelie  to  wive, 
To  whom  that  fortune  yeveth  so  fayr  a  grace. 

The  listes  shal  I  maken  in  this  place, 
And  God  so  wisly  on  my  soule  rewe,1 
As  I  shal  even  juge  ben,  and  trewe. 
Ye  shal  non  other  ende  with  me  maken 
That  on  of  you  ne  shal  be  ded  or  taken. 
And  il  you  thinketh  this  is  wel  ysaid, 
Saith  your  avis,  and  holdeth  you  apaid.2 
This  is  your  ende,  and  your  conclusion. 

Who  loketh  lightly  now  but  Palamon? 
"Who  springe th  up  for  joye  but  Arcite  1 
Who  coud  it  tell,  or  who  coud  it  endite, 
The  joye  that  is  maked  in  the  place 
Whan  Theseus  hath  don  so  iayre  a  grace  ? 
But  doun  on  knees  went  every  manere  wight,3 
And  thanked  him  with  all  hir  hertes  might, 
And  namely  these  Thebanes  often  sith.4 

And  thus  with  good  hope  and  with  herte  blith 
They  taken  hir  leve,  and  homeward  gan  they  ride 
To  Thebes,  with  his  olde  walles  wide. 
I  trowe  men  wolde  deme  it  negligence, 

If  I  foryete  to  tellen  the  dispence 

Ot  Theseus,  that  goth  so  besily5 

To  maken  up  the  listes  really, 

That  swiche  a  noble  theatre  as  it  was, 

I  dare  wel  sayn,  in  all  this  world  ther  n'as. 

The  circuite  a  mile  was  aboute, 

Walled  of  stone,  and  diched  all  withoute. 

Bound  was  the  shape,  in  manere  of  a  compas 

Ful  of  degrees,  the  hight  of  sixty  pas,6 

That  whan  a  man  was  set  on  o  degree 

He  letted  not  his  felaw  for  to  see. 

Estward  ther  stood  a  gate  of  marbel  white, 

Westward  right  swiche  another  in  th'  opposite. 

And  shortly  to  concluden,  swiche  a  place 

Was  never  in  erthe,  in  so  litel  a  space, 

For  in  the  lond  ther  n'as  no  craftes  man, 

That  geometrie,  or  arsmetrike  can, 

i  Have  mercy.  2  Satisfied.  3  Every  man  of  them. 

4  Since.  8  Busily.  6  Foot-paces. 


1901-1938.  THE   KJMGHTES   TALE.  55 

Ne  portreiour,  ne  kerver  of  images, 
That  Theseus  ne  yaf 1  him  mete  and  wages 
The  theatre  for  to  maken  and  devise. 

And  for  to  don  his  rite  and  sacrifice, 
He  estward  hath  upon  the  gate  above, 
In  worship  of  Venus  goddesse  of  love, 
Don  make  an  auter2  and  an  oratorie ; 
And  westward  in  the  minde  and  in  memorie 
Oi.  Mars  he  maked  hath  right  swiche  another, 
That  coste  largely  of  gold  a  f  other.3 
And  northward,  in  a  touret  on  the  wall, 
Of  alabastre  white  and  red  corall 
An  oratorie  riche  for  to  see, 
In  worship  of  Diane  of  chastitee, 
Hath  Theseus  don  wrought  in  nolle  wise.4 

But  yet  had  I  toryetten  to  devise 
The  noble  kerving,  and  the  portreitures, 
The  shape,  the  contenance  of  the  figures 
That  weren  in  these  oratories  three. 

First  in  the  temple  of  Venus  maist  thou  see 
Wrought  on  the  wall,  ful  pitous  to  beholde, 
The  broken  slepes,  and  the  sikes5  colde, 
The  sacred  teres,  and  the  waimentinges,' 
The  firy  strokes  of  the  desiringes, 
That  loves  servants  in  this  lif  enduren; 
The  othes,  that  hir  covenants  assuren. 
Plesance  and  hope,  desire,  foolhardinesse, 
Beaute  and  youthe,  baudrie  and  richesse, 
Charmes  and  force,  lesinges7  and  flaterie, 
Dispence,3  besinesse,  and  jalousie, 
That  wered  of  yelwe  goldes  a  gerlond, 
And  hadde  a  cuckow  sitting  on  hire  hond, 
Festes,  instruments,  and  caroles  and  dances, 
Lust  and  array,  and  all  the  circumstances 
Oi  love,  which  that  I  reken  and  reken  shall, 
By  ordre  weren  peinted  on  the  wall, 
And  mo  than  I  can  make  of  mention. 
For  sothly  all  the  mount  of  Citheron, 

1  Gave.  *  Altar.  3  A  carriage-load,  a  large  quantity. 

*  This  should  rather  be  don  work.  The  participle  of  the  past  time 
is  put  improperly  for  the  infinitive  mood.  But  the  same  inaccuracy 
occurs  again  in  v.  4591.— Tyrichitt. 

5  Sigh3.  6  Lamentations.  7  Lies.  8  Expense. 


56  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  1939-1978. 

Ther1  Venus  hath  hire  principal  dwelling, 
Was  shewed  on  the  wall  in  pnrtreying, 
With  all  the  gardin,  and  the  lustinesse,2 
Nought  was  foryetten  the  porte^-  idelnesse, 
Ne  Narcissus  the  fayre  of  yore  agon, 
Ne  yet  the  iolie3  of  king  Salomon, 
Ne  yet  the  grete  strengthe  of  Hercules, 
Th'  enchantment  of  Medea  and  Circes, 
Ne  of  Turnus  the  hardy  fiers  corage, 
The  riche  Cresus  caitif  in  servage. 
Thus  may  ye  seen,  that  wisdom  ne  richesse, 
Beaute  ne  sleighte,  strengthe  ne  hardinesse, 
Ne  may  with  Venus  holden  champartie,4 
For  as  hire  liste  the  world  may  she  gie. 
Lo,  all  these  folk  so  caught  were  in  hire  las* 
Til  they  for  wo  ful  often  said  alas. 
Sufficeth  here  ensamples  on  or  two, 
And  yet  I  coude  reken  a  thousand  mo. 

The  statue  of  Venus  glorious  for  to  see 
Was  naked  fleting  in  the  large  see, 
And  fro  the  navel  doun  all  covered  was 
With  wawes  grene,  and  bright  as  any  glaa. 
A  citole6  in  hire  right  hand  hadde  she, 
And  on  hire  hed,  ful  seraely  for  to  see, 
A  rose  gerlond  fressh,  and  wel  smelling, 
Above  hire  hed  hire  doves  fleckering. 
Before  hire  stood  hire  sone  Cupido, 
Upon  his  shoulders  winges  had  he  two ; 
And  blind  he  was,  as  it  is  often  sene ; 
A  bow  he  bare  and  arwes  bright  and  kene. 

Why  shulde  I  not  as  wel  eke  tell  you  all 
The  purtreiture,  that  was  upon  the  wall 
Within  the  temple  of  mighty  Mars  the  rede? 
All  peinted  was  the  wall  in  length  and  brede 
Like  to  the  estres7  of  the  grisly  place, 
That  highte  the  gret  temple  of"  Mars  in  Trace, 
In  thilke  colde  and  frosty  region, 
Ther  as  Mars  hath  his  sovereine  mansion. 

First  on  the  wall  was  peinted  a  forest, 
In  which  ther  wonneth8  neyther  man  ne  best, 

1  Where.    This  description  of  the  temple  of  Venus  is  chiefly  taken 
irom  Boccacio. — See  Tyrirhitt. 

2  Mirth,  gaiety.  3  Folly. 

*  Partnership.  6  Net,  toils.         6  Probably  a  kind  of  dulcimer. 

7The  inner  parts.  .  8  Dwelt. 


1979-2012.  THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  57 

"With  knotty  knarry  barrein  trees  old 

Of  stubbes1  sharpe  and  hidoua  to  behold; 

In  which  ther  ran  a  romble  and  a  swough,-1 

As  though  a  stonne  shuld  bresten3  every  bough: 

And  dounward  from  an  hill  under  a  bent,4 

Ther  stood  the  temple  of  Mars  armipotent, 

Wrought  all  of  burned  stele,  oi  which  th'  entree 

"Was  longe  and  streite,  and  gastly  for  to  see. 

And  therout  came  a  rage  and  swiche  a  vise  ;5 

That  it  made  all  the  gates  for  to  rise. 

The  northern  light  in  at  the  dore  shone, 

For  window  on  the  wall  ne  was  ther  none, 

Thurgh  which  men  mighten  any  light  discerne. 

The  dore  was  all  oi  athament  eterne, 

Yclenched  overthwart  and  endelong6 

With  yren  tough,  and  for  to  make  it  strong, 

Every  piler  the  temple  to  su3tene 

Was  tonne-gret,7  of  yren  bright  and  shene. 

Ther  saw  I  first  the  derke  imagining 
Of  felonie,  and  alle  the  compassing ; 
The  cruel  ire,  red  as  any  glede,8 
The  pikepurse,9  and  eke  the  pale  drede ; 
The  smiler  with  the  knit  under  the  cloke, 
The  shepen10  brenning  with  the  blake  smoke  ;     * 
The  tresen  of  the  mordring  in  the  bedde, 
The  open  werre,  with  woundes  all  bebledde  ; 
Conteke11  with  blody  knif,  and  sharp  manace. 
All  full  of  chirking12  was  that  sory  place. 
The  sleer  of  himself  yet  saw  I  there, 
His  herte-blood  hath  bathed  all  his  here  :13 
The  naile  ydriven  in  the  shode14  on  hight, 
The  colde  deth,  with  mouth  gaping  upright. 
Amiddes  of  the  temple  sate  mischance, 
With  discomfort  and  sory  contenance. 

'  Stocks.    See  Richardson's  Diet.,  v.  stub. 

2  Sound.  3  Burst.  *  Declivity. 

8  In  MS.  A.  veye.  Perhaps  we  should  read  rese,  a  Saxon  word  signi- 
fying violence,  impetuotity.  If  so,  we  must  also  read,  in  the  next  line, 
vete  for  rite,  with  MS. — Tyrwhitt. 

6  Lengthways.  J  I.  e.,  of  the  circumference  of  a  tun. 

8  A  burning  coal  or  ember.  9  Purse-stealcr,  cutpurse. 

W  Stable.  "  Contention. 

13  Chirping  like  a  sparrow.  Here  it  simply  denotes  a  disagreeable  noise. 
13  Hair.  14  The  top  hair  of  the  head. 


58  THE  CANTERBURY  TALE3.  2013-20M* 

Yet  saw  I  woodnesse1  laughing  in  his  rage, 
Armed  complaint,  outhees,2  and  liers  outrage ; 
The  carraine3  in  the  bush,  with  throte  ycorven,4      , 
A  thousand  slain,  and  not  of  qualnie5  ystorven;8 
The  tirant,  with  the  prey  by  force  yraft;7 
The  toun  destroied,  ther  was  nothing  laffc. 
Yet  saw  I  brent  the  shippes  hoppesteres,8 
The  hunte9  ystrangled  with  the  wilde  beres : 
The  sow  freting  the  child  right  in  the  cradel ; 
The  coke  yscalled,  °  for  all  his  long  ladel. 
Nought  was  foryete11  by  th'  infortune  of  Marte 
The  carter  overridden  with  his  carte ; 
v  Under  the  wheel  ful  low  he  lay  adoun. 

Ther  were  also  of  Martes  division, 
Th'  armerer,  and  the  bowyer,  and  the  smith, 
That  forgeth  sharpe  swerdes  on  his  stith." 
.   And  all  above  depeinted  in  a  tour 
Saw  I  conquest,  sitting  in  gret  honour, 
With  thilke  sharpe  swerd  over  his  hed13 
Yhanging  by  a  subtil  twined  thred. 
Depeinted  was  the  slaughter  of  Julius, 
Of  gret  Nero,  and  of  Antonius: 
All  be  that  thilke  time  they  were  unborne, 
Yet  was  hir  deth  depeinted  therbeiorne, 
By  manacing  of  Mars,  right  by  figure, 
So  it  was  shewed  in  that  purtreiture 
As  is  depeinted  in  the  cercles  above, 
"Who  shal  be  slaine  or  elles  ded  for  love. 
Sufficeth  on  ensample  in  stories  olde, 
I  may  not  reken  hem  alle,  though  I  wolde. 

The  statue  of  Mars  upon  a  carte1 '  stood 
Armed,  and  loked  grim  as  he  were  wood, 

1  Madness.  2  Outcry.  3  Carrion,  dead  corpses. 

*  Cut.  6  Sickness.  6  Dead.  7  Heft,  taken  away. 

8  Dancers.  It  is  needless  to  trouble  the  reader  with  the  various 
readings  and  interpretations  of  this  passage.  To  ltoppe,  in  Saxon, 
signified  exactly  the  same  as  to  dance,  though  with  us  it  has  acquired  a 
ludicrous  sense;  and  the  termination  ttre,  or  ster,  was  used  to  denote 
a  female,  like  trix  in  Latin.  As,  therefore,  a.  female  baker  was  called  a 
litiktatpr,  a  female  brewer  a  bretre*ler,  a  female  webbe,  or  weaver,  a 
weibester,  so,  I  conceive,  a  female  hopper,  or  dancer,  was  called  an 
hoppnter  It  is  well  known  that  a  ship,  in  most  languages,  is  considered 
as  a  female. —  TgnehM. 

9  Hunter.  1"  Scalded.  "Forgotten.  "Anvil. 

13  An  allusion  to  the  well-known  story  of  Damocles  at  the  court  of 
Dionysius  of  Corinth.  ,  u  Chariot. 


2045-2082.  THE   KNIGHTES   TALE.  59 

And  over  his  hed  ther  skinen  two  figures 
Of  sterres,  that  ben  cleped  in  scriptures, 
That  on  Puella,  that  other  Rubeus.1 
This  god  of  armes  was  araied  thus : 
A  wolf  ther  stood  beforne  him  at  his  fete 
With  eyen  red,  and  of  a  man  he  ete : 
With  subtil  pensil  peinted  was  this  storie, 
In  redoubting3  of  Mars  and  of  his  glorie. 

Now  to  the  temple  of  Diane  the  chaste 
As  shortly  as.  I  can  I  wol  me  haste, 
To  tellen  you  of  the  descriptioun, 
Depeinted  by  the  walles  up  and  doun, 
Of  hunting  and  of  shamefast  chastitee. 
Ther  saw  I  how  woful  Calistope,3 
Whan  that  Diane  agreved  was  with  here, 
Was  turned  from  a  woman  til  a  here, 
And  after  was  she  made  the  lodesterre : 
Thus  it  was  peinted,  I  can  say  no  ferre ; 
Hire  sone  is  eke  a  sterre  as  men  may  see. 
Ther  saw  I  Dane4  yturned  til  a  tree, 
I  mene  not  hire  the  goddesse  Diane, 
But  Peneus  daughter,  which  that  highte  Dane. 
There  saw  I  Atteon  an  hart  ymaked, 
For  vengeance  that  he  saw  Diane  all  naked: 
I  saw  how  that  his  houndes  have  him  caught 
And  freten  him,  for  that  they  knew  him  naught. 
Yet  peinted  was  a  litel  forthermore,8 
How  Athalante  hunted  the  wilde  bore, 
And  Meleagre,  and  many  another  mo, 
For  which  Diane  wrought*  hem  care  and  wo. 
Ther  saw  I  many  another  wonder  storie, 
The  which  me  liste  not  drawen  to  memorie.* 

This  goddesse  on  an  hart  ful  heye  sete, 
With  smale  houndes  all  aboute  hire  fete, 
And  undernethe  hire  feet  she  hadde  a  mono, 
Wexing  it  was,  and  shulde  wanen  sone. 
In  gaudy  grene  hire  statue  clothed  was, 
With  bow  in  hond,  and  arwes  in  a  cas. 

1  The  names  of  two  figures  in  geomancy,  representing  two  constel- 
lations in  heaven :  Puella  signifieth  Mars  retrograde,  and  Rubeus,  Mars 
direct. — Tt/rtchitt,  gl. 

2  Reverence.  -8  Callisto. 

4  Daphne,  who  was  turned  into  a  laurel  while  escaping  from  the 
embraces  of  Apollo.  *  Further  on.  6  I  do  not  wish  to  relate. 


60  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  2083-2122. 

Hire  eyen  caste  she  ful  low  adoun, 
Ther  Pluto  hath  his  derke  regioun. 
A  woman  travailling  was  hire  heforne, 
But  for  hire  childe  so  longe  was  unhorne 
Ful  pitously  Lucina  gan  she  call, 
And  sayed ;  helpe,  for  thou  mayst  beste  of  all. 
Wei  coude  he  peinten  lifly1  that  it  wrought, 
With  many  a  florein  he  the  hewes2  bought. 
V        Now  ben  these  listes  made,  and  Theseus 
That  at  his  grete  cost  arraied  thus 
The  temples,  and  the  theatre  everidel,3 
Whan  it  was  don,  him  liked  wonder  weL 
But  stint  I  wol4  of  Theseus  a  lite, 
And  speke  of  Palamon  and  of  Arcite. 

The  day  approcheth  of  hir  returning, 
That  everich  shuld  an  hundred  knightes  bring, 
The  bataille  to  darreine,5  as  I  you  told ; 
And  til6  Athenes,  hir  covenant  for  to  hold, 
Hath  everich  of  hem  brought  an  hundred  knightes, 
Wei  armed  for  the  werre  at  alle  rightes.7 
And  sikerly8  ther  trowed  many  a  man, 
That  afever,  sithen  that  the  world  began, 
As  for  to  speke  of  knighthood  of  hir  hond, 
As  fer  as  God  hath  maked  see  and  lond, 
N'  as,  of  so  fewe,  so  noble  a  compagnie. 
For  every  wight  that  loved  chevalrie, 
And  wold,  his  thankes,9  han  a  passant  name, 
Hath  praied,  that  he  might  ben  of  that  game, 
And  wel  was  him,  that  therto  chosen  was. 
For  if  ther  fell  to-morwe  swiche  a  cas, 
Ye  knowen  wel,  that  every  lusty  knight, 
That  lovetli  par  amour,  and  hath  his  mighty 
Were  it  in  Englelond ,  or  elleswher, 
They  wold,  hir  thankes,  willen  to  be  ther. 
To  fight  for  a  lady,  a !  benedicite, 
It  were  a  lusty  sighte  for  to  se. 

And  right  so  ferden10  they  with  Palamon. 
With  him  ther  wenten  knightes  many  on. 
Som  wol  ben  armed  in  an  habergeon. 
And  in  a  brest  plate,  and  in  a  gipon;11 

'  To  the  life.  2  Colours.  s  Every  bit.  '*  I  will  stop. 

*  Fight,  contend.  6  To.  7  At  all  points.  8  Surely. 

»  With  his  good  will.  10  Fared.  "  A  short  cassock. 


2123-2158.  THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  Gl 

And  som  wol  have  a  pair  of  plates  large ; 
And  som  wol  have  a  Pruce1  sheld,  or  a  targe ; 
Som  wol  ben  armed  on  his  legges  wele,2 
And  have  an  axe,  and  som  a  mace  of  stele. 
Ther  n'  is  no  newe  guise,  that  it  n'  as3  old. 
Armed  they  weren,  as  I  have  you  told, 
Everich  after  his  opinion. 

Ther  maist  thou  se  coming  with  Palamou 
Licurge  himself,  the  grete  king  of  Trace : 
Blake  was  his  berd,  and  manly  was  his  face. 
The  cercles  of  his  eyen  in  his  hed 
They  gloweden  betwixen  yelwe  and  red, 
And  like  a  griffon  loked  he  about, 
With  kemped4  heres  on  his  browes  stout; 
His  limmes  gret,  his  braunes5  hard  and  stronge, 
His  shouldres  brode,  his  armes  round  and  longe. 
And  as  the  guise  was  in  his  contree, 
Ful  highe  upon  a  char  of  gold  stood  he, 
With  foure  white  bolles5  in  the  trais.7 
Instede  of  cote-armure  on  his  harnais, 
With  nayles  yelwe,  and  bright  as  any  gold, 
He  hadde  a  beres  skin,  cole-blake  for  old.8 
His  longe  here  was  kempt  behind  his  bak 
As  any  ravenes  fether  it  shone  for  blake. 
A  wreth  of  gold  arm-gret,9  of  huge  weight, 
Upen  his  hed  sate  ful  of  stones  bright, 
Of  fine  rubins  and  of  diamants. 
Abut  his  char  ther  wenten  white  alauns,10 
Twenty  and  mo,  as  gret  as  any  stere,11 
To  hunten  at  the  leon  or  the  dere, 
And  folwed  him,  with  mosel12  fast  ybound, 
Colered  with  gold,  and  torettes13  filed  round. 
An  hundred  lordes  had  he  in  his  route 
Armed  full  wel,  with  hertes  sterne  and  stoute. 

With  Arcita,  in  stories  as  men  find, 
The  gret  Emetrius  the  king  of  Inde, 

'  Prussian.  2  Well.  3  That  it  is  not  also. 

*  Combed.  5  Bones.  6  Bulls.  7  Traces. 

8  This  somewhat  reminds  one  of  the  accoutrements  of  a  modern 
dragoon.  9  As  thick  as  a  man's  arm. 

10  A  species  of  mastiff,  much  esteemed  in  the  14th  century.  They 
were  trained  at  Milan.  "  A  young  bullock.  u  Muzzle. 

la  Kxplained  by  Cotgrave  to  mean  "the  little  ring,"  by  which  a 
hawk's  lure  or  leash  is  fastened  to  the  jesses.  They  were  also  used  to 
hold-in  dogs. 

6 


2  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  2159-2190. 

Upon  a  stede  bay,  trapped  in  stele, 

Covered  with  cloth  of  gold  diapred  wele, 

Came  riding  like  the  god  of  armes  Mars. 

His  cote-armure  was  of  a  cloth  of  Tars, 

Couched1  with  perles,  white,  and  round  and  grete. 

His  sadel  was  of  brent2  gold  new  ybete; 

A  mantelet  upon  his  shouldres  hanging 

Bret-ful  of  rubies  red,  as  fire  sparkling. 

His  crispe  here  like  ringes  was  yronne,3 

And  that  was  yelwe,  and  glitered  as  the  sonne. 

His  nose  was  high,  his  eyen  bright  citrin, 

His  lippes  round,  his  colour  was  sanguin, 

A  fewe  fraknes4  in  his  face  yspreirit,8 

Betwixen  yelwe  and  blake  somdel  ymeint  * 

And  as  a  leon  he  his  loking  caste. 

Of  five  and  twenty  yere  his  age  I  caste. 

His  herd  was  wel  begonnen  for  to  spring; 

His  vois  was  as  a  trompe  thondering. 

Upon  his  hed  he  wered  of  laurer  grene 

A  gerlond  fresshe  and  lusty  for  to  sene. 

Upon  his  hond  he  bare  for  his  deduit7 

An  egle  tame,  as  any  lily  whit. 

An  hundred  lordes  had  he  with  him  there, 

All  armed  savehir  hedes  in  all  hir  gere, 

Ful  richely  in  alle  manere  thinges. 

For  trusteth8  wel,  that  erles,  dukes,  kingea 

Were  gathered  in  this  noble  compagnie, 

For  love,  and  for  encrese  of  chevalrie. 

About  this  king  ther  ran  on  every  part 

Ful  many  a  tame  leon  and  leopart. 

And  in  this  wise,  these  lordes  all  and  some 
Ben  on  the  Sonday9  to  the  citee  come 
Abouten  prime,10  and  in  the  toun  alight. 

This  Theseus,  this  duk,  this  worthy  knight, 
"Whan  he  had  brought  hem  into  his  citee, 
And  inned11  hem,  everich  at  his  degree, 
He  festeth  hem,  and  doth  so  gret  labour 
To  esen12  hem,  and  don  hem  all  honour, 

Trimmed.  2  Burnt, «'.  e.  wrought  by  fire. 

3  Run,  signifying  that  it  curlert  in  ringlets.  4  Freckles. 

fi  Were  sprinkled.  6  Somewhat  mingled.         7  Delight,  pleasure. 

8  Trust  ye.  9  See  the  remarks  quoted  on  vs.  1852. 

0  Early  in  the  morning;  the  first  part  of  the  day. 
11  Lodged.  u  Make  them  comfortable. 


2197-2224.  THE   KXIGHTES  TALE.  63 

That  yet  men  wenen  that  no  marines  wit 

Of  non  estat  ne  coud  arnenden1  it. 

The  minstralcie,  the  service  at  the  feste, 

The  grete  yeftesJ  to  the  most  and  leste, 

The  riche  array  of  Theseus  paleis,a 

Ne  who  sate  first  ne  last  upon  the  deis, 

What  ladies  fayrest  ben  or  best  dancing, 

Or  which  of  hem  can  carole  best  or  sing, 

Ne  who  most  felingly  speketh  ot  love ; 

What  haukes  sitten  on  the  perche  above, 

What  houndes  liggen4  on  the  floor  adoun, 

Oi  all  this  now  make  I  no  mentioun ; 

But  ot  the  effect ;  that  thinketh  me  the  beste ; 

Now  cometh  the  point,  and  herkeneth  if  you  leaet. 

The  Sonday  night,  or  day  began  to  spring, 
Whan  PaJamon  the  larke  herde  sing, 
Although  it  n'ere  not5  day  by  houres  two, 
Yet  sang  the  larke,  and  Palamon  right  tho 
With  holy  herte,  and  with  an  high  corage 
He  rose,  to  wenden  on  his  pilgrimage 
Unto  the  blisnd  Citherea  benigne, 
I  mene  Venus,  honourable  and  digne. 
And  in  hire  houre,1*  he  walketh  forth  a  pas 
Unto  the  listes,  ther  hire  temple  was, 
And  doun  he  kneleth,  and  with  humble  chere 
And  herte  sore,  he  sayde  as  ye  shul  here. 

Fayrest  of  fayre,  o  lady  min  Venus, 
Daughter  to  Jove,  and  spouse  of  Vulcanus, 

1 1mprove.  3  Gifts.  3  Palace. 

*  Lie  8  It  was  not  yet  day. 

6  And  in  hire  houre.  I  cannot  better  illustrate  Chaucer's  Astrology 
than  by  a  quotation  from  the  old  Kalendrier  de  Bergiert,  edit.  1600. 
Sign.  K.  ii.  b. : — "Qui  veult  savoir  comnie  bergieis  scevent  quel  planete 
regno  chascune  heure  du  jour  et  de  la  nuit,  doit  savoir  la  planete  da 
Jour  qui  veult  s'enquerir;  et  la  premiere  lieure  temporelie  du  soleil 
levant  ce  jour  est  pour  celluy  planete.  la  seconde  heure  est  pour  la 
planete  ensuivant.  et  la  tierce  pour  i'autre,  &c  ,  in  the  following  order : 
viz.  Saturn,  Jupiter,  Mars,  Sol,  Venus,  Mercury,  Luna.  To  apply  this 
doctrine  to  the  present  case.  The  flist  hour  of  tho  Sunday,  reckoning 
from  sunrise,  belonged  to  the  sun,  the  planet  of  the  day ;  the  second 
to  Venus,  the  third  to  Mercury,  &c,  and  continuing  this  method  of 
allotment,  we  shall  find  that  the  twenty-second  hour  also  belonged  to 
the  Sun,  and  the  twenty-third  to  Venus;  so  that  the  hour  of  Venus 
really  was,  as  Chaucer  says,  two  houres  before  the  sunrise  of  the  fol- 
lowing day. 

Accordingly,  we  are  told  in  ver.  2273,  that  the  third  hour  after 


64  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  2225-2254 

Thou  glacier  of  the  mount  of  Citheron, 
For  thilke  love  thou  haddest  to  Adou1 
Have  pitee  on  my  bitter  teres  smert, 
And  take  myn  humble  praier  at  thin  herte 

Alas !  I  ne  have  no  langage  to  tell 
The  effecte,  ne  the  torment  of  min  hell; 
Min  herte  may  min  harmes  not  bewrey  f 
I  am  so  confuse,  that  I  cannot  say. 
But  mercy,  lady  bright,  that  knowest  wele 
My  thought,  aud  seest  what  harmes  that  I  fele, 
Consider  all  this,  and  rue  upon  my  sore, 
As  wisly  as  I  shall  for  evermore, 
Emforth3  my  might,  thy  trewe  servant  be, 
And  holden  werre  alway  with  chastite : 
That  make  I  min  avow,  so  ye  me  helpe. 
I  kepe  nought  ot  armes  for  to  yelpe.4 
Ne  axe  I  nat  to-morwe  to  have  victorie, 
Ne  renoun  in  this  cas,  ne  vaine  glorie 
Of  pris  of  armes,  blowen  up  and  doun, 
But  I  wold  have  fully  possessioun 
Of  Emelie,  and  die  in  hire  servise ; 
Find  thou  the  manere  how,  and  in  what  wise. 
I  rekke5  not,  but  it  may  better  be, 
To  have  victorie  of  hem,  or  they  of  me, 
So  that  I  have  my  lady  in  min  armes. 
For  though  so  be  that  Mars  is  god  of  armes, 
Your  vertue  is  so  grete  in  heven  above, 
That  if  you  liste,  I  shal  wel  have  my  love. 
Thy  temple  wol  I  worship  evermo, 
And  on  thin  auter,6  wher  I  ride  or  go, 

Palamon  set  out  for  the  temple  of  Venus,  the  Sun  rose,  and  Emelie 
began  to  go  to  the  temple  of  Diane.  It  is  not  said,  that  this  was  the 
hour  of  Diane,  or  the  Moon,  but  it  really  was ;  for,  as  we  have  just 
seen,  the  twenty-third  hour  of  Sunday  belonging  to  Venus,  the  twenty- 
fourth  must  be  given  to  Mercury,  and  the  first  hour  of  Monday  falls  in 
course  to  the  Moon,  the  presiding  planet  of  that  day. 

After  this  Arcite  is  described  as  walking  to  the  temple  of  Mars,  ver. 
2369,  hi  the  nexte  houre  of  Mars,  that  is,  the  fourth  hour  of  the  day.  It 
is  necessary  to  take  these  words  together,  for  the  nexte  houre,  singly, 
would  signify  the  second  hour  of  the  day ;  but  that,  according  to  the 
rule  of  rotation  mentioned  above,  belonged  to  Saturn,  as  the  third  did 
to  Jupiter.  The  fourth  was  the  nexte  houre  of  Mars,  that  occurred  after 
the  hour  last  named. — Tyrwhitt. 

'  Adonis.  2  Not  set  forth  my  troubles.  3  Even  with. 

«  Boast  *  Care.  •  Altar. 


2255-2292.  THE  KtflGHTES  TALE.  65 

I  wol  don  sacrifice,  and  sires  bete.1 

And  if  ye  wol  not  so,  my  lady  swete, 

Than  pray  I  you,  to-morwe  with  a  spere 

That  Arcita  me  thurgh  the  herte  here. 

Than  rekke  I  not,  whan  I  have  lost  my  lif, 

Though  that  Arcita  win  hire  to  his  wit. 

This  is  the  effecte.and  ende  of  my  praiere; 

Yeve  me  my  love,  thou  blisful  lady  tiere. 
"Whan  the  orison  was  don  of  Falamon, 

His  sacrifice  he  did,  and  that  anon, 

Full  pitously,  with  alle  circumstances, 

All  tell  I  not  as  now  his  observances. 

But  at  the  last  the  statue  of  Venus  shoke, 

And  made  a  signe,  wherby  that  he  toke, 

That  his  praiere  accepted  was  that  day. 

For  though  the  signe  shewed  a  delay, 

Yet  wist  he  wel  that  granted  was  his  bone ; 

And  with  glad  herte  he  went  him  home  ful  sono. 
The  thridde  houre  inequal2  that  Falamon 

Began  to  Venus  temple  for  to  gon, 

Up  rose  the  sonne,  and  up  rose  Emelie, 

And  to  the  temple  of  Diane  gan  hie. 

Hire  maydens,  that  she  thider3  with  hire  ladde, 

Ful  redily  with  hem  the  fire  they  hadde, 

Th'  encense,  the  clothes,  and  the  remenant  all, 

That  to  the  sacrifice  longen4  shall. 

The  homes  ful  of  mede,  as  was  the  gise, 

Ther  lakked  nought  to  don  hire  sacrifise* 

Smoking  the  temple,  ful  of  clothes  fayre, 

This  Emelie  with  herte  debonaire 

Hire  body  wesshe  with  water  of  a  well. 

But  how  she  did  hire  rite  I  dare  not  tell; 

But  it  be  any  thing  in  general ; 

And  yet  it  were  a  game  to  heren  all; 

To  him  that  meneth  wel  it  n'ere  no  charge: 

But  it  is  good  a  man  to  ben  at  large. 

Hire  bright  here  kembed  was,  untressed  all. 

A  coroune  of  a  grene  oak  cerial 
1  Prepare. 
2  In  the  astrological  system  of  the  time,  the  day,  from  sunrise  to  sun- 
set, and  the  night,  from  sunset  to  sunrise,  being  each  divided  into  twelve 
hours,  it  is  plain  that  the  hours  of  the  day  and  night  were  never  equal, 
except  just  at  the  Kquinoxes.  The  hours  attributed  to  the  Planets  were 
of  this  unequal  sort.  See  Kalendrier  de  Berg.  loc.  cit.,  and  our  author's 
treatise  on  the  Astrolabe. — Tyrwhitt.  3  Thither.  *  Belong. 

6* 


66  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  2293-2330. 

Upon  hire  hed  was  set  full  fayre  and  mete. 
Two  fires  on  the  auter  gan  she  bete,1 
And  did  hire  thinges,  as  men  may  behold 
In  Stace2  of  Thebes,  and  these  bokes  old. 

Whan  kindled  was  the  fire,  with  pitous  chero 
Unto  Diane  she  spake,  as  ye  may  here. 

O  chaste  goddesse  of  the  wode3  grene, 
To  whom  both  heven  and  erthe  and  see  is  sene,8 
Quene  oi  the  regne  of  Pluto,  derke  and  lowe, 
Goddesse  ot  maydens,  that  min  herte  hast  know© 
Ful  many  a  yere,  and  wost4  what  I  desire, 
As  kepe  me  fro  thy  vengeance  and  thin  ire, 
That  Atteon  aboughte5  cruelly: 
Chaste  goddesse,  wel  wotest  thou  that  I 
Desire  to  ben  a  mayden  all  my  lif, 
Ne  never  wol  I  be  no  love ne  wif. 
I  am  (thou  wost)  yet  of  thy  compagme, 
A  mayde,  and  love  hunting  and  venerie,8 
And  for  to  walke  in  the  wodes  wilde, 
And  not  to  ben  a  wif,  and  be  with  childe. 
Nought  wol  I  knowen  compagnie  of  man. 
Now  helpe  me,  lady,  sith  ye  may  and  can, 
For  tho7  three  formes  that  thou  hast  in  thee. 
And  Palamon,  that  hath  swiche  love  to  me, 
And  eke  Arcite,  that  loveth  me  so  sore, 
This  grace  I  praie  thee  withouten  more, 
As8  sende  love  and  pees  betwix  hem  two: 
And  fro  me  torne  away  hir  hertes  so, 
That  all  hir  hote  love,  and  hir  desire, 
And  all  hir  besy9  torment,  and  hir  fire 
Be  queinte,10  or  torned  in  another  place. 
And  il  so  be  thou  wolt  not  do  me  grace, 
Or  if  my  destinee  be  shapen  so, 
That  I  shall  nedes  have  on  of  hem  two, 
Asn*sende  me  him  that  most  desireth  me. 

Behold,  goddesse  oi  clene  chastite, 
The  bitter  teres,  that  on  my  chekes  ialh 
Sin  thou  art  mayde,  and  keper  oi  us  all, 


» Prepare.  »Statius.  3  Beheld. 

*  Knowest.  6  Suffered  for.  *  Huntings 

7  Those.    He  alludes  to  the  triple  form  of  Hecate. 
»  So.     See  the  note  on  vs.  8172.  9  Busy. 

0  Quenched.  u  Their. 


2331-2370.  THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  67 

My  maydenhed  thou  kepe  and  wel  conserve, 
And  while  I  live,  a  mayde  I  wol  thee  serve. 

The  fires  brenne  upon  the  auter  elere, 
While  Eraelie  was  thus  in  hire  praiere : 
But  sodenly  she  saw  a  sighte  queinte.1 
For  right  anon  on  oi  the  fires  queinte,2 
And  quiked3  again,  and  after  that  anon 
That  other  fire  was  queinte,  and  all  agon: . 
And  as  it  queinte,  it  made  a  whisteling, 
z   As  don  these  brondes4  wet  in  hir  brenning. 
And  at  the  brondes  ende  outran  anon 
As  it  were  blody  dropes  many  on : 
For  which  so  sore  agast  was  Emelie, 
That  she  was  wel  neigh  mad,  and  gan  to  crie, 
For  she  ne  wiste  what  it  signified ; 
But  only  fur  tae  fere  thus  she  cried, 
And  wept,  that  it  was  pitee  for  to  here. 

And  therwithall  Diane  gan  appere 
With  bowe  in  hond,  right  as  an  hunteresse, 
And  sayde :  doughter,  stint  thin  hevinesse. 
Among  the  goddes  highe  it  is  affernied, 
And  by  eterne  word  written  and  confermed, 
Thou  shalt  be  wedded  unto  on  of  tho,5 
That  han  lor  thee  so  mochel6  care  and  wo : 
But  unto  which  of  hem  I  may  not  tell. 
Farewel,  for  here  1  may  no  longer  dwell. 
The  fires  which  that  on  min  auter  brenne, 
Shal  thee  declaren7  er  that  thou  go  henne, 
Thin  aventure  ot  love,  as  in  this  cas. 

And  with  that  word,  the  arwes  in  the  cas 
Of  the  goddesse  clatteren  fast  and  ring, 
And  forth  she  went,  and  made  a  vanishing, 
For  which  this  Emelie  astonied  was, 
And  sayde ;  what  amounteth  this,  alas ! 
I  putte  me  in  thy  protection, 
Diane,  and  in  thy  disposition. 
And  home  she  goth  anon  the  nexte  way. 
This  is  the  effecte,  ther  n'is  no  more  to  say. 

The  nexte  houre  of  Mars  iolwing  this 
Arcite  unto  the  temple  walked  is 

l  Stranjre.  2  Was  quenched. 

8  Quickened,  became  alive.  *  Brands,  torches. 

6  Those.  «  Much.  '  inlorm  thee. 


8  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  2371-2410, 

Of  fierce  Mars,  to  don  his  sacrifise 
With  all  the  rites  of  his  payen  wise.1 
With  pitous  horte  and  high  devotion, 
Eight  thus  to  Mars  he  sayde  his  orison. 

0  stronge  god,  that  in  the  regnes  cold 
Of  Trace2  honoured  art,  and  lord  yhold, 
And  hast  in  every  regne  and  every  lond 
Oi  armes  all  the  bridel  in  thin  hond, 
And  hem  fortunest  as  thee  list  devise, 
Accept  oi  me  mv  pitous  sacrifise. 

Ii  so  be  that  my  youthe  may  deserve, 
And  that  my  might  be  worthy  ior  to  servo 
Thy  godhed,  that  I  may  ben  on  of  thine, 
Then  praie  I  thee  to  rewe  upon  my  pine,3 
For  thilke  peine,4  and  thilke  hote  fire, 
In  which  thou  whilom  brendest5  for  desire 
Whanne  that  thou  usedest  the  beautee 
Of  fayre  yonge  Venus,  freshe  and  free, 
And  haddest  hire  in  armes  at  thy  wille : 
Although  thee  ones  on  a  time  misfille, 
Whan  Vulcanus  had  caught  thee  in  his  las,6 
And  iond  the  ligging  by  his  wif,  alas ! 
For  thilke  sorwe  that  was  tho  in  thin  herte, 
Have  reuthe7  as  wel  upon  my  peines  smerte. 

1  am  yonge  and  unkonning,8  as  thou  wost, 
And,  as  I  trow,  with  love  offended  most 
That  ever  was  ony  lives  creature: 

For  she,  that  doth  me  all  this  wo  endure, 
Ne  recceth9  never,  whether  I  sinke  or  flete.10 
And  wel  I  wot,  or11  she  me  mercy  hete,12 
I  moste  with  strengthe  win  hire  in  the  place : 
And  wel  I  wot,  withouten  helpe  or  grace 
Of  thee,  ne  may  my  strengthe  not  availle : 
Than  helpe  me,  lord,  to-morwe  in  my  bataille, 
For  thilke  fire  that  whilom  brenned  thee, 
As  wel  as  that  this  fire  now  brenneth  me ; 
And  do,  that  I  to-morwe  may  han  victorie. 
Min  be  the  travaille,  and  thin  be  the  glorie. 
Thy  soveraine  temple  wol  I  most  honouren 
Of  ony  place,  and  alway  most  labouren 

'  Fajran  fashion.  2  Thrace.  3  Have  pity  on  my  grief. 

4  Trouble.  5  Didst  burn.  6  Toils. 

7  l'ity.  8  ignorant.  » Careth  not. 

10  Swim,  float.  u  Before.  12  Promise. 


2411-2452.  THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  69 

In  thy  plesance  and  in  thy  craftes  strong. 
And  in  thy  temple  I  wol  my  baner  hong, 
And  all  the  armes  of  my  compagnie, 
And  evermore,  until  that  day  I  die, 
Eterne  fire  I  wol  beforne  thee  finde, 
And  eke  to  this  avow  I  wol  me  binde. 
My  berd,  my  here1  that  hangeth  long  adoun, 
That  never  yet  felt  non  offension 
Of  rasour  ne  oi  shere,  I  wol  thee  yeve, 
And  ben  thy  trewe  servant  while  I  live. 
Now,  lord,  have  reuthe  upon  my  sorwes  sore, 
Yeve  me  the  victorie,  I  axe  thee  no  more. 

The  praier  stint2  of  Arcita  the  stronge, 
The  ringes  on  the  temple  dore  that  honge, 
And  eke  the  dores  clattereden  ful  faste, 
Of  which  Arcita  somwhat  him  agaste. 
The  fires  brent  upon  the  auter  bright, 
That  it  gan  all  the  temple  for  to  light ; 
A  swete  smell  anon  the  ground  Up  yaf,3 
And  Arcita  anon  his  hond  up  haf,4 
And  more  encense  into  the  fire  he  cast, 
With  other  rites  mo,6  and  at  the  last 
The  statue  of  Mars  began  his  hauberke6  ring; 
And  with  that  soun  he  herd  a  murmuring 
Ful  low  and  dim,  that  sayde  thus,  Victorie. 
For  which  he  yaf  to  Mars  honour  and  glorie 

And  thus  with  joye,  and  hope  wel  to  fare, 
Arcite  anon  unto  his  inne  is  fare, 
As  fayn  as  foul  is  of  the  brighte  sonne. 

And  right  anon  swiche  strif  ther  is  begonne 
For  thilke  granting,  in  the  heven  above, 
Betwixen  Venus  the  goddesse  of  love, 
And  Mars  the  sterne  god  armipotent, 
That  Jupiter  was  besy  it  to  stent:7 
Til  that  the  pale  Saturnus  the  colde, 
That  knew  so  many  of  aventures  olde, 
Fond  in  his  olde  experience  and  art, 
That  he  ful  sone  hath  plesed  every  part 
As  sooth  is  sayd,  elde8  hath  gret  a  vantage 
In  elde  is  bothe  wisdom  and  usage: 
Men  may  the  old  out-rennc  but  not  out-rede.' 

Saturne  anon,  to  stenten  strif  and  drede 

1  Hair.         » Ceased.  3  Gave.  *  Lifted. 

*  More.        °  Coat  of  mail.         *  To  stop.  8  Aye.  »  Outwit 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES.  2453-2492 

Al  be  it  that  it  is  again  his  kind. 
Of  all  this  strif  he  gan  a  remedy  find. 

My  dere  doughter  Venus,  quod  Saturne, 
My  cours,  that  hath  sc  wide  for  to  turne, 
Hath  more  power  than  wot  any  man. 
Min  is  the  drenching  in  the  see  so  wan, 
Min  is  the  prison  in  the  derke  cote, 
Min  is  the  strangel  and  hanging  by  the  throte, 
The  murmure,  and  the  cherles  rebelling, 
The  groyning,1  and  the  prive  empoysoning. 
I  do  vengeance  and  pleine2  correction, 
While  I  dwell  in  the  signe  of  the  leon. 
Min  is  the  ruine  ot  the  highe  halles, 
The  falling  of  the  toures  and  of  the  walles 
Upon  the  minour,3  or  the  carpenter : 
I  slew  Sampson  in  shaking  the  piler. 
Min  ben  also  the  maladies  colde, 
The  derke  tresons,  and  the  castes'  olde: 
My  loking  is  the  fader5  of  pestilence. 
Now  wepe  no  more,  I  shal  do  diligence, 
That  Palamon,  that  is  thin  owen  knight, 
Shal  have  his  lady,  as  thou  hast  him  hight. 
Thogh  Mars  shal  help  his  knight    et  nathelea. 
Betwixen  you  ther  mot  sometime  be  pees: 
All  be  ye  not  of  o6  complexion, 
That  causeth  all  day  swiche  division. 
I  am  thin  ayel,7  redy  at  thy  will ; 
"Wepe  now  no  more,  I  shal  thy  lust  fulfill. 

Now  wol  I  stenten  of*  the  goddes  above, 
Of  Mars,  and  of  Venus  goddesse  of  love, 
And  tellen  you  as  plainly  as  I  can 
The  gret  effect,  for  which  that  I  began. 

Gret  was  the  feste  in  Athenes  thUke  day, 
And  eke  the  lusty  seson  of  that  May 
Made  every  wight  to  ben  in  swiche  plesance, 
That  all  that  monday  justen  they  and  dance, 
And  spenden  it  in  Venus  high  servise. 
But  by  the  cause  that  they  shidden  rise 
Erly  a-morwe  for  to  seen  the  fight, 
Unto  hir  reste  wenten  they  at  night. 

1  Discontent.  *  Full.  * Miner. 

4  Contrivances,  plot*.  *  Father.  s  One, 

'Grandsire.  8  Have  done  with. 


2493-2532.  THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  71 

And  on  the  morwe  whan  the  day  gan  spring, 
Of  hors  and  harneis  noise  and  clattering 
Ther  was  in  the  hostelries  all  aboute : 
And  to  the  paleis  rode  ther  many  a  route1 
Of  lordes,  upon  stedes  and  palireis. 

Ther  mayst  thou  see  devising  of  harneis 
So  uncouth*  and  so  riche,  and  wrought  so  wele 
Of  goldsmithry,  of  brouding,3  and  of  stele ; 
The  sheldes  brighte,  testeres,  and  trappures ; 
Gold-he  wen  helmes,  hauberkes,  cote-arm  ures; 
Lordes  in  parementes4  on  hir  courseres, 
Knightes  o.  retenue,  and  eke  squieres, 
Nailing  the  speres,  and  helmes  bokeling, 
Gniding5  of  sheldes,  with  lainers6  lacing ; 
Ther  as  nede  is,  they  weren  nothing  idels 
The  tomy  stedes  on  the  golden  bridel 
Gnawing,  and  fast  the  armureres  also 
With  file  and  hammer  priking  to  and  fro; 
Yemen  on  foot,  and  communes  many  on 
With  shorte  staves,  thicke  as  they  may  gon; 
Pipes,  trompes,  nakeres."  and  clariounes, 
That  in  the  bataille  blowen  blody  sounes ; 
The  paleis  ful  of  peple  up  and  doun, 
Here  three,  ther  ten,  holding  hir  questioun, 
Devining  of  these  Theban  xnigntes  two. 
Som  sayden  thus,  som  sayd  it  shal  be  so ; 
Som  helden  with  him  with  the  blacke  berd, 
Som  with  the  balled,8  som  with   he  thick  herd 
Som  saide  he  loked  grim,  and  .rolde  fighte : 
He  hath  a  sparth9  of  twenty  pound  of  wighta. 

Thus  was  the  halle  full  oi  devining 
Long  after  that  the  sonne  gan  up  spring. 
The  gret  Theseus  that  of  his  slepe  is  waked 
With  minstralcie  and  noise  that  was  maked, 
Held  yet  the  chambre  of  his  paleis  ricne, 
Til  that  the  Theban  knightes  bothe  yliche 
Honoured  were,  and  to  the  paleis  fette. 

DuxC  Theseus  is  at  a  window  sette, 
Araied  right  as  he  were  a  god  in  trone  :10 
The  peple  preseth  thiderward  ful  sone 

J  Company.  2  Rare,  uncommon,  beautiful.  *  Embroidery. 

*  Trappings,  ornamental  furniture.    See  on  vs.  10,583.        *  liubbiog. 

•  Straps,  thongs.  7  A  kind  of  bra-s  ilrum  used  by  the  cav.ilry. 
8  Smooth,  bald.  'An  axe,  or  halberd.  10  On  his  throne. 


72  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  2533-2568. 

Him  for  to  seen,  and  don  high  reverence, 
And  eke  to  herken  his  heste1  and  his  sentence. 

An  heraud  on  a  scaffold  made  an  o,2 
Til  that  the  noise  of  the  peple  was  ydo : 
And  whan  he  saw  the  peple  of  noise  al  still, 
Thus  shewed  he  the  mighty  dukes  will 

The  lord  hath  of  his  high  discretion 
Considered,  that  it  were  destruction 
To  gentil  blood,  to  fighten  in  the  gise 
Of  mortal  bataille  now  in  this  emprise: 
Wherfore  to  shapen  that  they  shul  not  die, 
He  wol  his  firste  purpos  modifie. 

No  man  therfore,  up  peine  of  losse  of  lif, 
No  maner  shot,3  ne  pollax,  ne  short  knif 
Into  the  listes  send,  or  thider  bring. 
Ne  short  swerd  for  to  stike  with  point  biting 
No  man  ne  draw,  ne  bere  it  by  his  side. 
Ne  no  man  shal  unto  his  felaw  ride 
But  o  cours,  with  asharpe  ygrounden  spere: 
Foin4  if  him  list  on  foot,  himself  to  were.5 
And  he  that  is  at  meschief,  shal  be  take, 
And  not  slaine,  but  be  brought  unto  the  stake, 
That  shal  ben  ordeined  on  uyther  side, " 
Thider  he  shal  by  force,  and  ther  abide. 
And  if  so  fall,  the  chevetain  be  take 
On  eyther  side,  or  elles  sleth  his  make,6 
No  longer  shal  the  tourneying  ylast. 
God  spede  you ;  goth  forth  and  lay  on  fast. 
With  longe  swerd  and  with  mase7  fighteth  your  fill. 
Goth  now  your  way ;  this  is  the  lordes  will.     . 

The  vois  of  the  peple  touched  to  the'  heven, 
So  loude  crieden  they  with  mery  steven:8 
God  save  swiche  a  lord  that  is  so  good, 
He  wilneth  no  destruction  of  blood. 

Up  gon  the  trompes  and  the  melodie, 
And  to  the  listes  rit9  the  compagnie 

'  Behest. 

*  An  o.  It  may  be  doubted,  whether  this  be  an  abbreviation  ofOyet, 
or  whether  the  interjection  Ho  were  used  to  command  a  cessation  of  noise, 
as  well  as  of  fighting,  &c.  For  the  latter  use,  see  vs.  1708,  2658,  and 
Holinshed,  p.  495  The  duke  of  Norfolke  was  not  fullie  set  forward, 
when  the  King  cast  down  his  warder,  and  the  Heraldes  cried,  Ho,  ho.— 
7'yiuhitt.  3  No  kind  of  darts  or  missiles. 

4  Make  a  pass  6  Defend.  6  Mate,  fellow. 

7  According  to  your  fancy.  8  Voice.  9  Bode. 


2569-2610.  THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  73 

By  ordinance,  thurghout  the  cite  large, 

Hanged  with  cloth  of  gold,  and  not  with  sarge. 

Ful  like  a  lord  this  noble  duk  gan  ride, 

And  these  two  Thebans  upon  eyther  side: 

And  after  rode  the  quene  and  Emelie, 

And  after  that  another  compagnie 

Of  on  and  other,  after  hir  degree. 

And  thus  they  passen  thurghout  the  citee, 

And  to  the  listes  comen  they  be  time  : 

It  n'as  not  of  the  day  yet  fully  prime. 

Whan  set  was  Theseus  ful  rich  and  hie, 
Ipolita  the  quene,  and  Emelie, 
And  other  ladies  in  degrees  aboute, 
Unto  the  setes  preseth  all  the  route. 
And  westward,  thurgh  the  gates  under  Mart, 
Arcite,  and  eke  the  hundred  of  his  part, 
With  baner  red,  is  entred  right  anon ; 
And  in  the  selve  moment  Palamon 
Is,  under  Venus,  estward  in  the  place, 
With  baner  white,  and  hardy  chere  and  face. 
In  all  the  world,  to  seken  up  and  douu, 
So  even  without  variatioun 
Ther  n'  ere  swiche  compagnies  never  twey.1 
For  ther  was  non  so  wise  that  coude  sey, 
That  any  hadde  of  other  avantage 
Of  worthinesse,  ne  of  estat,  ne  age, 
So  even  were  they  chosen  for  to  gesse. 
And  in  two  renges2  fayre  they  hem  dresset 
Whan  that  hir  names  red  were  everich  on, 
That  in  hir  nombre  gile3  were  ther  non, 
Tho  were  the  gates  shette,  and  cried  was  loude ; 
Do  now  your  devoir,  yonge  knightes  proude. 

The  heraudes  left  hir  priking  up  and  doun. 
Now  ringen  trompes  loud  and  clarioun. 
Ther  is  no  more  to  say,  but  est  and  west 
In  gon  the  speres  sadly  in  the  rest ; 
In  goth  the  sharpe  spore4  into  the  side. 
Ther  see  men  who  can  juste,  and  who  can  ride. 
Ther  shiveren  shaftes  upon  sheldes  thicke ; 
He  feleth  thurgh  the  herte-spone5  the  pricke. 
Up  springen  speres  twenty  foot  on  highte ; 
Out  gon  the  swerdes  as  the  silver  brighte. 

'  Never  were  two  such  companies.  2  Ranges.  3  Error. 

4  Spur        8  Probably  the  concave  part  of  the  breast. — See  Tynehitf. 

7 


74  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES.  2611-2648. 

The  helmes  they  to-hewen,  and  to-shrede ; 
Out  brest1  the  blod,  with  sterne3  stremes  rede. 
With  mighty  maces  the  bones  they  to-breste.3 
He  thurgh  the  thickest  ot  the  throng  gan  threste. 
Ther  stomblen  stedes  strong,  and  doun  goth  all. 
He  rolleth  under  foot  as  doth  a  balL 
He  foineth4  on  his  f  oo  with  a  tronchoun, 
And  he  him  hurtleth5  with  his  hors  adoun 
He  thurgh  the  body  is  hurt,  and  sith  ytake6 
Maugre  his  hed,  and  brought  unto  the  stake, 
As  forword  was,  right  ther  he  must  abide. 
Another  lad  is  on  that  other  side. 
And  somtime  doth  hem  Theseus  to  rest, 
Hem  to  refresh,  and  drinken  if  hem  lest. 

Ful  oft  a  day  han  thilke  Thebanes  two 
Togeder  met,  and  wrought  eche  other  wo: 
Unhorsed  hath  eche  other  of  hem  twey. 
Ther  n'as  no  tigre  in  the  vale  of  Galaphey,7 
Whan  that  hire  whelpe  is  stole,  whan  is  it  lite,8 
So  cruel  on  the  hunt,  as  is  Arcite 
For  jalous  herte  upon  this  Palamon: 
Ne  in  Belmarie  ther  n'  is  so  fell  leon, 
That  hunted  is,  or  for  his  hunger  wood, 
Ne  of  his  prey  desireth  so  the  blood, 
As  Palamon  to  sleen  his  foo  Arcite. 
The  jalous  strokes  on  hir  helmes  bite ; 
Gut  renneth  blood  on  both  hir  sides  rede. 

Somtime  an  ende  ther  is  of  every  dede. 
For  er  the  sonne  unto  the  reste  went, 
The  stronge  king  Emetrius  gan  hent9 
This  Palamon,  as  he  fought  with  Arcite, 
And  made  his  swerd  depe  in  his  flesh  to  bite. 
And  by  the  force  of  twenty  is  he  take 
Unyolden,  and  ydrawen  to  the  stake. 
And  in  the  rescous10  of  this  Palamon 
The  stronge  king  Licurge  is  borne  adoun: 
And  king  Emetrius  for  all  his  strengthe 
Is  borne  out  of  his  sadel  a  swerdes  lengthe, 

'  Buret.  s  Cruel.  3  Burst. 

*  Maketta  a  pass.  *  Pusbeth  at.  6  And  therefore  taken. 
7  There  was  a  town  called  Galapha  in  Mauritania,  upon  the  river 

Malva,  which  may  perhaps  have  given  name  to  the  vale  here  meant. 
For  Belmarie,  see  note  on  v.  57. — Tyrichitt.  8  Little. 

•  Catch  hold  on,  attach.  *>  Rescue. 


2649-2690.  THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  75 

So  hitte  him  Palamon  or  he  were  take: 
But  all  for  nought,  he  was  brought  to  the  stake : 
His  hardy  herte  might  him  helpen  naught, 
He  moste  abiden,  whan  that  he  was  caught, 
By  force,  and  eke  by  composition.1 

Who  sorweth2  now  but  woful  Palamon  ? 
That  moste  no  more  gon  again  to  fight. 
And  whan  that  Theseus  had  seen  that  fight, 
Unto  the  folk  that  foughten  thus  eche  on, 
He  cried,  ho  !  no  more,  for  it  is  don. 
I  wol  be  trewe  juge,  and  not  partie. 
Arcite  of  Thebes  shal  have  Emelie, 
That  by  his  fortune  hath  hire  fayre  ywonne. 

Anon  ther  is  a  noise  of  peple  begonne 
For  joye  of  this,  so  loud  and  high  withall, 
It  semed  that  the  listes  shulden  fall. 

What  can  now  fayre  Venus  don  above  ? 
What  saith  she  now  ?  what  doth  this  quene  of  love  t 
But  wepeth  so,  for  wanting  of  hire  will, 
Til  that  hire  teres  in  the  listes  fill : 
She  sayde :  I  am  ashamed  doubtlees. 

Saturaus  sayde :  Daughter,  hold  thy  pees. 
Mars  hath  his  will,  his  knight  hath  all  his  bone. 
And  by  min  hed  thou  shalt  ben  esed  sone. 

The  trompoures4  with  the  loude  minstralcie, 
The  heraudes,  that  so  loude  yell  and  crie, 
Ben  in  hir  joye  for  wele  of  Dan5  Arcite. 
But  herkeneth  me,  and  stenteth  noise  a  lite 
Whiche6  a  miracle  ther  befell  anon. 

This  fierce  Arcite  hath  of  his  helme  ydon, 
And  on  a  courser  for  to  shew  his  face 
He  priketh  endelong  the  large  place, 
Looking  upward  upon  this  Emelie ; 
And  she  again  him  cast  a  frendlich  eye, 
(For  women,  as  to  speken  in  commune, 
They  folwen  all  the  favour  of  fortune) 
And  was  all  his  in  chere,7  as  his  in  herte. 
Out  of  the  ground  a  fury  infernal  sterte, 
From  Pluto  sent,  at  requeste  of  Saturne, 
For  which  his  hors  for  fere  gan  to  turne, 
And  lepte  aside,  and  foundred  as  he  lepe : 
And  er  that  Arcite  may  take  any  kepe,8 

1  According  to  agreement.  2  Sorrowetn.  •  Boon. 

*  Trumpeters.         5  Lord.         •  What.         7  Countenance.         •  Care. 


76  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  2691-2732. 

He  pight1  him  on  the  pomel  of  his  hed, 
That  in  the  place  he  lay  as  he  were  ded, 
His  brest  to-brosten2  with  his  sadel  bow. 
As  blake3  he  lay  as  any  cole  or  crow, 
So  was  the  blood  yronnen  in  his  face. 

Anon  he  was  yborne  out  of  the  place 
With  herte  sore,  to  Theseus  paleis. 
Tho  was  he  corven  out  of  his  harneis, 
And  in  a  bed  ybrought  ful  fayre  and  blive,4 
For  he  was  yet  in  memorie,  and  live, 
And  alway  crying  after  Emelie. 

Duk  Theseus,  with  all  his  compagnie, 
Is  comen  home  to  Athenes  his  citee, 
With  alle  blisse  and  gret  solempnite. 
Al  be  it  that  this  aventure  was  falle, 
He  n'olde  not  discomforten  hem  alle. 
Men  sayden  eke,  that  Arcite  shal  not  die, 
He  shal  ben  heled  oi  his  maladie. 
And  of  another  thing  they  were  as  fayn, 
That  of  hem  alle  was  ther  non  yslain, 
Al  were  they  sore  yhurt,  and  namely  on, 
That  with  a  spere  was  thirled  his  brest  bone. 
To  other  woundes,  and  to  broken  armes, 
Som  hadden  salves,  and  som  hadden  charme3 
And  fermacies5  of  herbes,  and  eke  save6 
They  dronken,  for  they  wold  hir  lives  have. 
For  which  this  noble  duk,  as  he  wel  can, 
Comforteth  and  honoureth  every  man, 
And  made  revel  all  the  longe  night, 
Unto  the  strange  lordes,  as  was  right, 
Ne  ther  n'as  holden  no  discomforting, 
But  as  at  justes  or  a  tourneying  ; 
For  sothly  ther  n'as  no  discomfiture, 
For  falling  n'is  not  but  an  aventure. 
Ne  to  be  lad  by  force  unto  a  stake 
Unyolden,  and  with  twenty  knightes  take, 
O  person  all  alone,  withouten  mo, 
And  haried'  forth  by  armes,  foot,  and  too, 
And  eke  his  stede  driven  forth  with  staves, 
With  footmen,  bothe  yemen  and  eke  knaves, 
It  was  aretteds  him  no  vilanie : 
Ther  may  no  man  clepen  it  cowardie. 

1  Pitched.  2  Buret.  3  Black.  *  Quick. 

*  Medicine*.         6  Sage.  '  Hurried.  8  Accounted. 


2733-2770.  THE   KNIGHTES  TALE.  77 

For  which  anon  duk  Theseus  let  crio, 

\To  stenten  alle  rancour  and  envie, 
The  gree1  as  wel  of  o  side  as  of  other, 
And  eyther  side  ylike,  as  others  brother: 
And  yave  hem  giftes  after  hir  degree, 
And  helde  a  feste  fully  dayes  three : 
And  conveyed  the  kinges  worthily 
Out  of  his  toun  a  journee  largely. 
And  home  went  every  man  the  righte  way, 
Ther  n'as  no  more,  but  farewel,  have  good  day. 
Of  this  bataille  I  wol  no  more  endite, 
But  speke  of  Palamon  and  of  Arcite. 

Swelleth  the  brest  of  Arcite,  and  the  sor© 
Encreseth  at  his  herte  more  and  more. 
The  clotered  blood,  for2  any  leche-craft, 
Corrumpeth,3  and  is  in  his  bouke  ylaft,4 
That  neyther  veine-blood,  ne  ventousing,5 
Ne  drinke  of  herbes  may  ben  his  helping. 
The  vertue  expulsif,  or  animal, 
Fro  thilke  vertue  cleped  natural, 
Ne  may  the  venime  voiden,  ne  expelL, 
The  pipes  of  his  longes  gan  to  swell, 
And  every  lacerte6  in  his  brest  adoun 
Is  shent7  with  venime  and  corruptioun. 
Him  gaineth8  neyther,  for  to  get  his  lif, 
Vomit  upward,  ne  dounward  laxatif  j 
All  is  to-brosten9  thilke  region ; 
Nature  hath  now  no  domination. 
And  certainly  ther  nature  wol  not  werche,10 
Farewel  physike  ;  go  bere  the  man  to  cherche.11 
This  is  all  and  som,12  that  Arcite  moste  die. 
For  which  he  sendeth  after  Emelie, 
And  Palamon,  that  was  his  cosin  dere. 
Than  sayd  he  thus,  as  ye  shuln  after  here. 

Nought  may  the  woful  spirit  in  myn  herte 
Declare  o  point  of  all  my  sorwes  smerte 
To  you,  my  lady,  that  I  love  most ; 
But  I  bequethe  the  service  of  my  gost13 

'  Prize.  2  Despite.  8  Corrupts. 

*  Left  in  his  body.  5  Cupping. 

6  A  fleshy  muscle,  so  called  from  its  supposed  resemblance  to  the  tail 
of  a  lizard  (lacerta).  '  Kuined.  8  Profiteth. 

»  Burst.  ,0  Work.  »  Church.         u  The  sum  total. 

13  Spirit,  ghost. 


/8  THE   CANTERBURY   TALES.  2771-2810. 

To  you  aboven  every  creature, 

Sin  that  ray  lif  ne  may  no  lenger  dure. 

Alas  the  wo !  alas  the  peines  stronge, 
That  I  for  you  have  suffered,  and  so  longe! 
Alas  the  deth !  alas  min  Emelie ! 
Alas  departing  oi  our  compagnie ! 
Alas  min  hertes  quene !  alas  my  wif! 
Min  hertes  ladie,  ender  of  my  lif! 
What  is  this  world  1  what  axen  men  to  have  ? 
Now  with  his  love,  now  in  his  colde  grave 
Alone  withouten  any  compagnie. 
Farewel  my  swete,  farewel  min  Emelie, 
And  softe  take  me  in  your  armes  twey, 
For  love  oi  God,  and  herkeneth  what  I  sey. 

I  have  here  with  my  cosin  Palamon 
Had  strif  and  rancour  many  a  day  agon 
For  love  of  you,  and  for  my  ialousie. 
And  Jupiter  so  wis  my  soule  gie,1 
To  speken  oi  a  servant  proprely, 
With  alle  circumstances  trewely, 
That  is  to  sayn,  trouth,  honour,  and  knighthede 
Wisdom,  humblesse,  estat,  and  high  kinrede, 
Fredom,  and  all  that  longeth2  to  that  art, 
So  Jupiter  have  of  my  soule  part, 
As  in  this  world  right  now  ne  know  I  non, 
So  worthy  to  be  loved  as  Palamon, 
That  serveth  you,  and  wol  don  all  his  lif. 
And  if  that  ever  ye  shal  ben  a  wif, 
Foryete3  not  Palamon,  the  gentil  man. 

And  with  that  word  his  speche  iaille  began. 
For  from  his  feet  up  to  his  brest  was  come 
The  cold  of  deth,  that  had  him  overnome. 
And  yet  moreover  in  his  armes  two 
The  vital  strength  is  lost,  and  all  ago. 
Only  the  intellect,  withouten  more, 
That  dwelled  in  his  herte  sike  and  sore, 
Gan  faillen,  whan  the  herte  felte  deth ; 
Dusked  his  eyen  two,  and  failled  his  breth. 
But  on  his  ladie  yet  cast  he  his  eye ; 
His  laste  word  was ;  Mercy,  Emelie ! 


1  So  willed  to  guide  my  soul. 

2  Belongeth.  3  Forget. 


2811-2848.  THE  KNIQHTES  TALE.  79 

His  spirit  changed  hous,  and  wente  ther, 

As  I  came  never  I  cannot  tellen  wher.1 

Therfore  I  stent,  I  am  no  divinistre  j 

Of  soules  find  I.  not  in  this  registre. 

Ne  me  lust  not  th'  opinions  to  telle 

Of  hem,  though  that  they  writen  wher  they  dwelle. 

Arcite  is  cold,  ther  Mars  his  soule  gie. 

Now  wol  I  speken  forth  of  Emelie. 

Shright2  Emelie,  and  houleth3  l'alamon, 
And  Theseus  his  sister  toke  anon 
Swouning,  and  bare  hire  from  the  corps  away. 
What  helpeth  it  to  tarien4  forth  the  day, 
To  tellen  how  she  wep  both  even  and  morwel 
For  in  swiche  cas  wimmen  have  swiche  sorwe,' 
Whan  that  hir  housbonds  ben  fro  hem  ago, 
That  for  the  more  part  they  sorwen6  so, 
Or  elles  fallen  in  swiche  maladie, 
That  atte  laste  certainly  they  die. 

Infinite  ben  the  sorwes  and  the  teres 
Oi  olde  folk,  and  folk  of  tendre  yeres, 
In  all  the  toun  for  deth  of  this  Theban: 
For  him  ther  wepeth  bothe  childe  and  man. 
So  gret  a  weping  was  ther  non  certain, 
Whan  Hector  was  ybrought,  all  fresh  yslain 
To  Troy,  alas !  the  pitee  that  was  there, 
Cratching  of  chekes,  rending  eke  of  here. 
Why  woldest  thou  be  ded  1  thise  women  crie, 
And  haddest  gold  ynough,  and  Emelie. 

No  man  might  gladen  this  duk  Theseus, 
Saving  his  olde  fader  Egeus, 
That  knew  this  worldes  transmutatioun, 
As  he  had  seen  it  chaungen  up  and  doun, 
Joye  after  wo,  and  wo  after  gladnesse ; 
And  shewed  him  ensample  and  likenesse. 

Bight  as7  ther  died  never  man  (quod  he) 
That  he  ne  lived  in  erthe  in  som  degree, 
Eight  so  ther  lived  never  man  (he  seyd) 
In  all  this  world,  that  somtime  he  ne  deyd. 

Shakspere  is  equally  cautious  in  making  a  like  assertion,  in  Macbeth  :— 

"  Hear  it  not,  Duncan,  for  it  is  a  knell 
That  summons  thee  to  heaven,  or  to  hell." 

a  Shrieks.  3  Howletfl.  4  Tarry.  8  Sorrow. 

*  Sorrow,  grieve.  7  Just  as,  even  as. 


80  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  2849-2888. 

This  world  n'is  but  a  thurghfare  ful  of  wo 
And  we  ben  pilgrimes,  passing  to  and  fro : 
Deth  is  an  end  of  every  worldes  sore. 

And  over  all  this  yet  said  he  mochel  more 
To  this  effect,  ful  wisely  to  enhort1 
The  peple,  that  they  shuld  hem  recomfort. 

Duk  Theseus  with  all  this  besy  cure3 
He  casteth  now,  wher  that  the  sepulture 
Of  good  Arcite  may  best  ymaked  be, 
And  eke  most  honourable  in  his  degree. 
And  at  the  last  he  toke  conclusion, 
That  ther  as  first  Arcite  and  Palamon 
Hadden  for  love  the  bataille  hem  betwene, 
That  in  that  selve  grove,  sote3  and  grene, 
Ther  as  he  hadde  his  amorous  desires, 
His  complaint,  and  for  love  his  hote  fires, 
He  wolde  make  a  fire,  in  which  the  office 
Of  funeral  he  might  all  accomplise ; 
And  lete4  anon  commande  to  hack  and  hewe 
The  okes  old,  and  lay  hem  on  a  rew 
In  culpons,5  wel  araied  for  to  brenne. 
His  officers  with  swifte  feet  they  renne6 
And  ride  anon  at  his  commandement. 
And  after  this,  this  Theseus  hath  sent 
After  a  bere/  and  it  all  overspradde 
With  cloth  of  gold,  the  richest  that  he  hadde; 
And  of  the  same  suit  he  cladde  Arcite. 
Upon  his  hondes  were  his  gloves  white, 
Eke  on  his  hed  a  croune  of  laurer  grene, 
And  in  his  bond  a  swerd  ful  bright  and  kene. 
He  laid  him  bare  the  visage  on  the  bere, 
Therwith  he  wept  that  pitee  was  to  here. 
And  for  the  peple  shulde  seen  him  alle, 
Whan  it  was  day  he  brought  him  to  the  halle, 
That  roreth  of  the  crying  and  the  soun. 

Tho  came  this  woful  Theban  Palamon 
With  fiotery8  berd,  and  ruggy  asshy  heres, 
In  clothes  blake,9  ydropped  all  with  teres, 
And  (passing  over  of  weping  Emelie) 
The  reufullestt10  of  all  the  compagnie. 

1  Encourage.  9  Care.  *  Sweet. 

*  Left.  6  Logs.  « Run. 

7  Bier.  8  Floatings.  9  Block.  ,0  Most  sorrowing. 


2889-2928.  THE   KNIGIITES  TALE.  81 

And  in  as  much  as  the  service  shuld  be 
The  more  noble  and  riche  in  his  decree, 
Duk  Theseus  let  forth  three  stedes  bring, 
That  trapped  were  in  stele  all  glittering, 
And  covered  with  the  armes  of  Dan1  Arcite. 
And  eke  upon  these  stedes  gret  and  white 
Ther  satenJ  folk,  of  which  on  bare  his  sheld, 
Another  his  spere  up  in  his  hondes  held ; 
The  thridde  bare  with  him  his  bow  Turkeis, 
Of  brent  gold  was  the  cas  and  the  harneis: 
And  riden  forth  a  pas  with  sorweful  chere 
Toward  the  grove,  as  ye  shul  after  here. 

The  noblest  of  the  Grekes  that  ther  were 
Upon  hir  shuldres  carrieden  the  bere, 
With  slacke  pas,3  and  eyen  red  and  wete, 
Thurghout  the  citee,  by  the  maister  strete, 
That  sprad  was  all  with  black,  and  wonder  hie 
Eight  of  the  same  is  all  the  strete  ywrie. 
Upon  the  right  hand  went  olde  Egeus, 
And  on  that  other  side  duk  Theseus, 
With  vessels  in  hir  hond  of  gold  ful  fine, 
All  ful  of  hony,  milk,  and  blood,  and  wine; 
Eke  Palamon,  with  ful  gret  compagnie : 
And  after  that  came  woful  Emelie, 
With  tire  in  hond,  as  was  that  time  the  gise, 
To  don  the  office  of  funeral  service. 

High  labour,  and  ful  gret  apparailling 
Was  at  the  service  of  that  fire  making. 
That  with  his  grene  top  the  heven  raught,4 
And  twenty  fadom  of  brede5  the  armes  straught:' 
This  is  to  sain,  the  boughes  were  so  brode. 
Of  stre7  first  ther  was  laied  many  a  lode. 

But  how  the  fire  was  maked  up  on  highte, 
And  eke  the  names  how  the  trees  highte, 
As  oke,  fir,  birch,  aspe,  alder,  holm,  poplere, 
Wilow,  elm,  plane,  ash,  box,  chestein,8  lind,9  laurere, 
Maple,  thorn,  beche,  hasel,  ew,  whipultre,10 
How  they  were  feld,  shal  not  be  told  for  me ; 
He  how  the  goddes  rannen  up  and  doun 
Disherited  of  hir  habitatioun, 


•  Lord. 

s  Sate. 

3  Pace. 

*  Reached. 

4  Breadth. 

6  Extended. 

7  Straw. 

8  ChesnuU 

9  Linden. 

10  See  Appendix. 

82  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  2929-2960 

In  which  they  woneden1  in  rest  and  pees, 
Nimphes,  Faunes,  and  Amadriades  ; 
Ne  how  the  bestes,  and  the  briddes2  alle 
Fledden  for  fere,  whan  the  wood  gan  falle  ; 
Ne  how  the  ground  agast  was  of  the  light, 
That  was  not  wont  to  see  the  sonne  bright ; 
Ne  how  the  fire  was  couched  first  with  stre,3 
And  than  with  drie  stickes  cloven  a-thre, 
And  than  witl-  grene  wood  and  spicerie, 
And  than  with  cloth  of  gold  and  with  perrie,4 
And  gerlonds  hanging  with  ful  many  a  flour, 
The  mirre,8  th'  encense  also  with  swete  odour; 
Ne  how  Arcita  lay  among  all  this, 
Ne  what  richesse  about  his  body  is; 
Ne  how  that  Emelie,  as  was  the  gise, 
Put  in  the  fire  oi  funeral  service ; 
Ne  how  she  swouned6  whan  she  made  the  fire, 
Ne  what  she  spake,  ne  what  was  hir  desire ;  * 
Ne  what  jewelles  men  in  the  fire  caste, 
Whan  that  the  fire  was  gret  and  brente  faste ; 
Ne  how  som  cast  hir  sheld,  and  som  hir  spere, 
And  of  hir  vestimentes,  which  they  were, 
And  cuppes  full  of  wine,  and  milk,  and  blood, 
Into  the  fire,  that  brent  as  it  were  wood; 
Ne  how  the  Grekes  with  a  huge  route 
Three  times  riden  all  the  fire  aboute 
Upon  the  left  hond,  with  a  loud  shouting, 
And  thries  with  hir  speres  clatering ; 
And  thries  how  the  ladies  gan  to  crie ; 
Ne  how  that  led  was  homeward  Emelie; 
Ne  how  Arcite  is  brent  to  ashen  cold; 
Ne  how  the  liche-wake7  was  yhold 

*  Dwelt.  -  Birds.  3  Straw. 

*  Jewels,  precious  stones.  6  Myrrh.  6  Fainted. 

1  The  custom  of  watching  with  dead  bodies  (lice.  Sax.)  is  probably  very 
ancient  in  this  country.  It  was  abused,  as  other  Wakes  and  Vigils 
were.  See  Du  Cange,  in  V.  Vigili^e.  In  vigiliis  circa  corpora  mor- 
tuorum  vetantur  chorea  et  cantilena,  seculares  lurli  et  alii  turpes  et  fatui. 
Synod.  Wigorn.  an.  1,240,  c.  5.  Chaucer  seems  to  have  confounded  the 
Wake-plays,  as  they  were  called,  of  his  own  time  with  the  Kuneral- 
games  of  the  Antients.    So  in  Troilus,  v.  303,  Troilus  says  to  Pandarus, 

But  of  the  fire  and  fiambe  funeral 

In  which  my  body  brennen  shall  to  glede 

And  of  the  feste  and  plat/es  palestra! 

At  my  vigile  I  pray  thee  take  good  hede. — Tyrwhitt. 


2901-3002.  THE   KN1GIITES  TALE.  83 

All  tlrilke  night,  ne  how  the  Grekes  play. 
The  wake-plaies  ne  kepe  I  not  to  say : 
Who  wrestled  best  naked,  with  oile  enoint, 
Ne  who  that  bare  him  best  in  no  disjoint.1 
I  woll  not  tellen  eke  how  they  all  gon 
Home  til  Athenes  whan  the  play  is  don ; 
But  shortly  to  the  point  now  wol  I  wende, 
And  maken  of  my  longe  tale  an  ende. 

By  processe  and  by  lengthe  of  certain  yerea 
All  stenten2  is  the  mourning  and  the  teres 
Of  Grekes,  by  on  general  assent. 
Than  semeth  me  ther  was  a  parlement 
At  Athenes,  upon  certain  points  and  cas: 
Amonges  the  which  points  yspoken  was 
To  have  with  certain  contrees  alliance, 
And  liave  oi  Thebanes  fully  obeisance. 
For  which  this  noble  Theseus  anon 
Let  senden  after  gentil  Palamon, 
Unwist  of  him,  what  was  the  cause  and  why 
But  in  his  blacke  clothes  sorwefully 
He  came  at  his  commandement  on  hie ; 
Tho  sente  Theseus  for  Emelie. 

Whan  they  were  set,  and  husht  was  al  the  place, 
And  Theseus  abiden  hath  a  space, 
Or3  any  word  came  from  his  wise  brest 
His  eyen  set  he  ther  as  was  his  lest, 
And  with  a  sad  visage  he  siked  still, 
And  after  that  right  thus  he  sayd  his  wilL 

The  firste  mover  of  the  cause  above 
Whan  he  firste  made  the  fayre  chaine  of  love, 
Gret  was  th'  effect,  and  high  was  his  entent ; 
Wei  wist  he  why,  and  what  therof  he  ment: 
For  with  that  fayre  chaine  oi  love  he  bond4 
The  fire,  the  air,  the  watre,  and  the  lond 
In  certain  bondes,  that  they  may  not  flee: 
That  same  prince  and  mover  eke  (quod  he) 
Hath  stablisht,  in  this  wretched  world  adoun, 
Certain  of  dayes  and  duration 
To  all  that  are  engendred  in  this  place, 
Over  the  which  day  they  ne  mow5  not  pace, 
Al  mow  they  yet  dayes  wel  abrege. 
Ther  nedeth  non  autoritee  allege, 

'  With  no  disadvantage.  8  Stopped. 

3  Before  that.  <  Bound.  fi  Host. 


84  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8003-3044. 

For  it  is  preved  by  experience, 
But  that  me  lust1  declaren  my  sentence. 
Than  may  men  by  this  ordre  wel  discerne, 
That  thilke  mover  stable  is  and  eterne. 
"Wel  may  men  knowen,  but  it  be  a  fool, 
That  every  part  deriveth  from  his  hool.8 
For  nature  hath  not  taken  his  beginning 
Of  no  partie  ne  cantel3  of  a  thing, 
But  of  a  thing  that  parfit  is  and  stable, 
Descending  so,  til  it  be  corrumpable.4 
And  therfore  of  his  wise  purveyance 
He  hath  so  wel  beset  his  ordinance, 
That  speces  of  thinges  and  progressions 
Shullen  enduren  by  successions, 
And  not  eterne,  withouten  any  lie : 
This  maiest  thou  understand  and  seen  at  eye. 
Lo  the  oke,  that  hath  so  long  a  norishing 
Fro  the  time  that  it  ginneth  first  to  spring, 
And  hath  so  long  a  lif,  as  ye  may  see, 
Yet  at  the  laste  wasted  is  the  tree. 
Considereth  eke,  how  that  the  harde  stone 
Under  our  feet,  on  which  we  trede  and  gon, 
It  wasteth,  as  it  lieth  by  the  wey. 
The  brode  river  somtime  wexeth  drey.5 
The  grete  tounes  see  we  wane  and  wende. 
Than  may  ye  see  that  all  thing  hath  an  ende. 
Of  man  and  woman  see  we  wel  also, 
That  nedes  in  on  o.  the  termes  two, 
That  is  to  sayn,  in  youthe  or  elles  age, 
He  mote  be  ded,  the  king  as  shall  a  page; 
Som  in  his  bed,  som  in  the  depe  see, 
Som  in  the  large  feld,  as  ye  may  see: 
Ther  helpeth  nought,  all  goth  that  ilke  wey 
Than  may  I  sayn  that  alle  thing  mote  dey. 
"What  maketh  this  but  Jupiter  the  king  ? 
The  which  is  prince,  and  cause  of  alle  thing, 
Converting  alle  unto  his  propre  wille, 
From  which  it  is  derived,  soth  to  telle. 
And  here-againes  no  creature  on  live6 
Of  no  degree  availleth  for  to  strive. 
Than  is  it  wisdom,  as  it  thinketh  me, 
To  maken  vertue  of  necessite, 

1 1  wish  to  declare.  2  Whole.  3  Fragment. 

*  Corruptible.  *  Dry.  6  Alive. 


3015-3084.  THE  KNIGHTES  TALE.  85 

And  take  it  wel,  that  we  may  not  eschewe, 

And  namely  that  to  us  all  is  dewe. 

And  who  so  grutcheth1  ought,  he  doth  folie, 

And  rebel  is  to  him  that  all  may  gie.3 

And  certainly  a  man  hath  most  honour 

To  dien  in  his  excellence  and  flour, 

Whan  he  is  siker  of  his  goode  name. 

Than  hath  he  don  his  fr  4*d,  ne  him,  no  shame; 

And  glader  ought  his  frend  ben  of  his  deth, 

Whan  with  honour  is  yolden3  up  his  breth, 

Than  whan  his  name  appalled  is  for  age ; 

For  all  foryetten  is  his  vassallage. 

Than  is  it  best,  as  for  a  worthy  fame, 

To  dien  whan  a  man  is  best  of  name. 

The  contrary  of  all  this  is  wiliulnesse. 

Why  grutchen  we  ?  why  have  we  hevinesse, 

That  good  Arcite,  ot  chivalry  the  flour, 

Departed  is,  with  dutee  and  honour, 

Out  oi  this  foule  prison  of  this  lif  ? 

Why  grutchen  here  his  cosin  and  his  wif 

Of  his  welfare,  that  loven  him  so  wel  1 

Can  he  hem  thank  1  nay,  God  wot,  never  a  del, 

That  both  his  soule,  and  eke  hemself  offend, 

And  yet  they  mow  hir  lustes  not  amend. 

What  may  I  conclude  ot  this  longe  serie, 
But  after  sorwe  I  rede  us  to  be  merie,4 
And  thanken  Jupiter  of  all  his  grace. 
And  er  that  we  departen  from  this  place, 
I  rede  that  we  make  ot  sorwes  two 
O  parfit  joye  lasting  evermo : 
And  loketh  now  wher  most  sorwe  is  herein, 
Ther  wol  I  firste  amenden  and  begin. 

Sister,  (quod  he)  this  is  my  full  assent, 
With  all  th  avis  here  of  my  parlement, 
That  gentil  Palamon,  your  owen  knight, 
That  serveth  you  with  will,  and  herte,  and  might, 
And  ever  hath  don,  sin  ye  first  him  knew, 
That  ye  shall  of  your  grace  upon  him  rew,s 
And  taken  him  for  husbond  and  for  lord : 
Lene  me  your  hand,  for  this  is  oure  accord. 

1  Grudgeth.  2  Guide.  3  Yielded. 

*  I  opiue  that  we  should  be  merry.  •  Take  compassion. 

8 


86  THE  CANTERBUBY  TALES.  3085-3110. 

Let  see  now  of  your  womanly  pitee. 
He  is  a  kinges  brothers  sone  pardee,1 
And  though  he  were  a  poure  bachelere, 
Sin  he  hath  served  you  so  many  a  yere, 
And  had  for  you  so  gret  adversite, 
It  moste  ben  considered,  leveth  me.2 
For  gentil  mercy  oweth  to  passen3  right. 

Than  sayd  he  thus4*i^Palamon  the  knight; 
I  trow  ther  nedeth  litel  sermoning 
To  maken  you  assenten  to  this  thing. 
Cometh  ner,  and  take  your  lady  by  the  hond. 

Betwixen  hem  was  maked  anon  the  bond, 
That  highte  matrimoine  or  mariage, 
By  all  the  conseil  of  the  baronage. 
And  thus  with  alle  blisse  and  melodie 
Hath  Palamon  ywedded  Emelie. 
And  God  that  all  this  wide  world  hath  wrought, 
Send  him  his  love,  that  hath  it  dere  ybought. 
For  now  is  Palamon  in  alle  wele, 
Living  in  blisse,  in  richesse,  and  in  hele, 
And  Emelie  him  loveth  so  tendrely, 
And  he  hire  serveth  al  so  gentilly, 
That  never  was  ther  no  word  hem  betwene 
Of  jalousie,  ne  of  non  other  tene.4 

Thus  endeth  Palamon  and  Emelie ; 
And  God  save  all  this  fayre  compagnie. 

'  Pardieux,  by  God.  3  Believe  me. 

*  To  judge,  to  pass  sentence.  *  Grief,  vexation. 


6* 


THE  MILLERES  PROLOGUE. 

3111-3140. 

Whan  that  the  Knight  had  thus  his  tale  told, 
In  all  the  compagnie  n'as  ther  yong  ne  old, 
That  he  ne  said  it  was  a  noble  storie, 
And  worthy  to  be  drawen  to  memorie ; 
And  namely  the  gentiles  everich  on. 
Our  hoste  lough  and  swore,  So  mote  I  gon, 
This  goth  aright ;  unbokeled  is  the  male ;' 
Let  see  now  who  shal  tell  another  tale : 
For  trewely  this  game  is  wel  begonne. 
Now  telleth  ye,  sire  Monk,  if  that  ye  conne, 
Somwhat,  to  quiten  with  the  knightes  tale. 

The  Miller  that  for-dronken  was  all  pale, 
So  that  unethes2  upon  his  hors  he  sat, 
He  n'old  avalen3  neither  hood  ne  hat, 
Ne  abiden  no  man  for  his  curtesie, 
But  in  Pilate  vois4  he  gan  to  crie, 
And  swore  by  armes,  and  by  blood,  and  bones, 
I  can  a  noble  tale  for  the  nones, 
With  which  I  wol  now  quite  the  knightes  tale. 

Our  hoste  saw  that  he  was  dronken  of  ale, 
And  sayd ;  abide,  Robin,  my  leve  brother, 
Som  better  man  shall  tell  us  first  another: 
Abide,  and  let  us  werken  thriftily. 

By  Goddes  soul  (quod  he)  that  wol  not  I, 
For  I  wol  speke,  or  elles  go  my  way. 

Our  hoste  answerd;  Tell  on  a  devil  way; 
Thou  art  a  fool ;  thy  wit  is  overcome. 

Now  herkeneth,  quod  the  miller,  all  and  some: 
But  first  I  make  a  protestation^ 
That  I  am  dronke,  1  know  it  by  my  soun: 

'  The  budget  is  opened.  2  Uneasily.  8  To  take  off,  to  dofl. 

*  In  I'itatet  toit  In  such  a  voice  as  Pilate  was  used  to  speak  with  in 
the.  Mysteries.  Pilate,  being  an  odious  ohararteT,  was  probably  repre- 
sented us  speaking  with  a  harsh,  disagreeable  vu  lc. — Tyitchiit. 


88  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  3141-3174. 

And  therlore  if  that  I  misspeke  or  say, 

Wite1  it  the  ale  oi  South werk,  I  you  pray: 

For  I  wol  tell  a  legend  and  a  lif 

Both  of  a  carpenter  and  of  his  wif, 

How  that  a  clerk  hath  set  the  wrightes  cappe.8 

The  Reve  answerd  and  saide,  Stint  thy  clappe. 
Let  be  thy  lewed  dronken  harlotrie. 
It  is  a  sinne,  and  eke  a  gret  folie 
To  apeiren3  any  man,  or  him  defame, 
And  eke  to  bringen  wives  in  swiche  a  name. 
Thou  mayst  ynough  of  other  thinges  sain. 

This  dronken  miller  spake  ful  sone  again, 
And  sayde ;  Leve  brother  Osewold, 
Who  hath  no  wif,  he  is  no  cokewold. 
But  I  say  not  therfore  that  thou  art  on ; 
Ther  ben  lul  goode  wives  many  on. 
Why  art  thou  angry  with  my  tale  now  1 
I  have  a  wif  parde4  as  wel  as  thou, 
Yet  n'olde  I,  for  the  oxen  in  my  plough, 
Taken  upon  me  more  than  ynough 
As  demen  of  myself  that  I  am  on ; 
I  wol  beleven  wel  that  I  am  non. 
An  husbond  shuld  not  ben  inquisitif 
Of  Goddes  privite,  ne  of  his  wif. 
So  he  may  nnden  Goddes  foison5  there, 
Of  the  remenant  nedeth  not  to  enquere. 

What  shuld  I  more  say,  but  this  millere. 
He  n'olde  his  wordes  for  no  man  forbere, 
But  told  his  cherles  tale  in  his  manere, 
Me  thinketh,  that  I  shal  reherse  it  here. 
And  thertore  every  gentil  wight  I  pray, 
For  Goddes  love  as  deme  not"  that  I  say 
Of  evil  entent,  but  that  I  mote  reherse 
Hir  tales  alle,  al  be  they  better  or  werse, 

1  Blame  the  ale  for  it.  2  Made  the  fool  of  him. 

3  Impair,  injure.  ■*  Pardieux.  8  Abundance. 

6  This  phrase  has  occurred  before:  ver.  2304,  As  kepe  me.  Ver. 
2319,  As  sende.  I  once  thought  that  as  in  these  cases  was  used  ellip- 
tically  for  do  so  much  as ;  but  then  the  following  verb  mu3t  have  been 
in  the  infinitive  mood,  whereas  it  is  often  in  the  imperative.  See  ver. 
5773,  Astaketh.  Ver  6631,  As  doth.  Ver.  13,352,  As beth.  lam  there- 
fore rather  inclined  to  understand  it  in  the  sense  of  so,  according  to  ita 
original  etymology.  As  is  an  abbreviation  of  als,  and  that  of  al  swa  ; 
sic.  omnitio.     See  ver.  5481,  5778,  7007. — Tyrtchitt. 


3175-3206.  THE  MILLERES  TALE. 

Or  elles  falsen  som  of  my  matere. 
And  therfore  who  so  list  it  not  to  here, 
Turne  over  the  leef,  and  chese  another  tale, 
For  he  shal  find  ynow  bothe  gret  and  smale, 
Of  storial  thing  that  toucheth  gentillesse, 
And  eke  moralite,  and  holinesse. 
Blameth  not  me,  if  that  ye  chese  amis. 
The  miller  is  a  cherl,  ye  know  wel  this, 
So  was  the  reve,  (and  many  other  mo) 
And  harlotrie  they  tolden  bothe  two. 
Aviseth  you  now,  and  put  me  out  of  blame ; 
And  eke  men  shuld  not  make  ernest  of  game. 


%\t  fpllms  ft  nit 


Whilom  ther  was  dwelling  in  Oxenfordo 

A  riche  gnof,1  that  gestes  helde  to  borde, 

And  of  his  craft  he  was  a  carpenter. 

With  him  there  was  dwelling  a  poure  scoler, 

Had  lerned  art,  but  all  his  fantasie 

Was  turned  for  to  lerne  astrologie, 

And  coude  a  certain  of  conclusions 

To  demen2  by  interrogations, 

If  that  men  asked  him  in  certain  houres, 

Whan  that  men  shulde  have  drought  or  elles  shoures : 

Or  if  men  asked  him  what  shulde  falle 

Of  every  thing,  I  may  not  reken  alle. 

This  clerk  was  cleped  hendy3  Nicholas; 
Of  derne'  love  he  coude  and  of  solas  ;5 
And  therto  he  was  slie  and  ful  prive,6 
And  like  a  maiden  meke  for  to  se. 
A  chambre  had  he  in  that  hostelrie 
Alone,  withouten  any  compagnie, 
Ful  fetisly7  ydight  with  herbes  sote,8 
And  he  himself  was  swete  as  is  the  rote9 

1  Cuff.     See  Tyrwhitt's  glossary.  2  Judge,  determine. 

8  Courteous.  *  Secret.  5  Mirth,  sport. 

•  Private.  1  Neatly.  » Sweet.  "Root. 

8* 


90  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  3207-3236. 

Of  licoris,  01*  any  setewale.1 
His  almageste,2  and  bokes  gret  and  smale, 
His  astrelabre,  longing  for  his  art, 
His  augrim3  stones,  layen  faire  aparte 
On  shelves  couched  at  his  beddes  hed, 
His  presse  ycovered  with  a  falding  red. 
And  all  above  ther  lay  a  gay  sautrie, 
On  which  he  made  on  nightes  melodie, 
So  swetely,  that  all  the  chambre  rong ! 
And  Angelus  ad  virginem  he  song. 
And  after  that  he  song  the  kinges  note  f 
Ful  often  blessed  was  his  mery  throte. 
And  thus  this  swete  clerk  bis  time  spent 
After  his  frendes  finding5  and  his  rent. 

This  carpenter  had  wedded  new  a  wifj 
Which  that  he  loved  more  than  his  lif : 
Of  eightene  yere  she  was  I  gesse  of  age. 
Jalous  he  was,  and  held  hire  narwe  in  cage, 
For  she  was  wild  and  yonge,  and  he  was  old, 
And  demed  himself  belike  a  cokewold. 
He  knew  not  Caton,6  for  his  wit  was  rude, 
That  bade  a  man  shulde  wedde  his  similitude. 
Men  shulden  wedden  after  hir  estate, 
For  youthe  and  elde  is  often  at  debate. 
But  sithen  he  was  fallen  in  the  snare, 
He  most  endure  (as  other  folk)  his  care. 

Fayre  was  this  yonge  wif,  and  therwithal 
As  any  wesel  hire  body  gent  and  smal. 
A  seint7  she  wered,  barred  all  of  silk, 
A  barme-cloth8  eke  as  white  as  morwe  milk 

1  The  herb  valerian. 

2  The  "  Great  Syntax"  of  Ptolemy,  an  astronomical  treatise,  th$ 
Greek  name  of  which  has  been  corrupted  by  the  Arabs  into  almagetthi. 
— Tyrwhitt,  gl. 

3  Pebbles,  or  counters,  used  for  numeration.  The  word  is  a  corrup- 
tion of  the  Arabic  "  algorithm." 

4  The  kinges  note.  What  this  note,  or  tune,  was,  I  must  leave  to  be 
explained  by  the  musical  antiquaries.  Angelut  ad  virginem,  I  suppose, 
was  Ate  Maria,  &c. — Tyrwhitt.  5  /.  e.  supplying. 

6  The  calling  of  this  author  Caton,  shows  that  he  was  more  studied 
in  French  than  in  Latin.  See  below,  ver.  9251,  14,946,  16,155.  Who 
he  was,  or  of  what  age,  is  uncertain :  but  his  authority,  four  or  five 
hundred  years  ago,  seems  to  have  been  as  great  as  if  he  had  really  been 
the  famous  censor  of  Rome.  However,  the  maxim  here  alluded  to  is 
not  properly  one  of  Cato's,  but  I  find  it  in  a  kind  of  supplement  to  the 
moral  distichs. — Tyrwhitt.  7  Girdle.  8  Apron. 


3237-3262.  THE   MILLERES   TALE.  91 

Upon  hire  lendes,1  ful  of  many  a  gore.5 

White  was  hire  smok,  and  brouded  all  before 

And  eke  behind  on  hire  colere3  aboute 

Of  cole-black  silk,  within  and  eke  withoute. 

The  tapes  of  hire  white  volupere4 

Were  of  the  same  suit  of  hire  colere ; 

Hire  fillet  brode  of  silk,  and  set  full  hye: 

And  sikerly  she  had  a  likerous  eye,. 

Ful  smal  ypulled  were  hire  browes  two, 

And  they  were  bent,  and  black  as  any  slo. 

She  was  wel  more  blisful  on  to  see 

Than  is  the  newe  perjenete5  tree ; 

And  softer  than  the  wolle  is  of  a  wether. 

And  by  hire  girdel  heng  a  purse  of  lether, 
Tasseled  with  silk,  and  perled  with  latoun.6 
In  all  this  world  to  seken  up  and  doun 
Ther  n'is  no  man  so  wise,  that  coude  thenche 
So  gay  a  popelot,7  or  swiche  a  wenche. 
Ful  brighter  was  the  shining  of  hire  hewe, 
Than  in  the  tour  the  noble  yforged  newe. 
But  of  hire  song,  it  was  as  loud  and  yerne,8 
As  anyswalow  sitting  on  a  berne.9 
Therto  she  coude  skip,  and  make  a  game, 
As  any  kid  or  calf  folowing  his  dame. 
Hire  mouth  was  swete  as  braket10  or  the  meth,11 
Or  hord  of  apples,  laid  in  hay  or  heth.12 

1  Loins. 

3  It  lias  been  suggested  to  me  by  a  learned  person,  whom  I  have  not 
the  honour  to  know,  that  gore  is  a  common  name  for  a  slip  of  cloth  or 
linen,  which  is  inserted  in  order  to  widen  a  garment  in  any  particular 
place.  Goor  of  a  cloth. — Lucinia,  Prompt.  Parv.  See  also  the 
glossary  to  Kennet's  Paroch.  Antiq.  in  V.  Gore.  This  sense  will  suit 
very  well  with  the  context  of  ver.  3237,  but  hardly  I  think  with  that  of 
ver.  13,719  ;  unless  we  suppose  that  gore  is  put  here  for  shirt,  because 
shirts  have  usually  gores  in  them.  This  expression  would  certainly  be 
very  awkward,  and  unlike  Chaucer's  general  manner,  but  in  this  place, 
the  Rime  of  Sire  Topas,  he  may  be  supposed  to  have  taken  it  purposely 
from  one  of  those  old  romances  which  are  the  objects  of  his  ridicule. — 
Tyrwkitt. 

3  Collar.  4  A  woman's  cap.  8  A  young  pear. 

''■  Ornamented  with  latoun  in  the  shape  of  pearls.  Laton  was  a  kind 
of  mixed  metal. 

7  Young  butterfly,  or  puppet,  according  to  its  derivation. 

s  Brisk,  fresh.  »  Barn. 

10  A  sweet  drink  made  of  the  wort  of  ale,  honey,  and  spice. 

»  Mead.  12  Heath. 


92  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  3263-3298. 

Winsing  she  was,  as  is  a  joly  colt, 
Long  as  a  mast,  and  upright  as  a  bolt. 
A  broche  she  bare  upon  hire  low  colere, 
As  brode  as  is  the  bosse  of  a  bokelere. 
Hire  shoon  were  laced  on  her  legges  hie; 
She  was  a  prhnerole,1  a  pirrgesnie,2 
For  any  lord  to  liggen  in  his  bedde, 
Or  yet  for  any  good  yeman  to  wedde. 

Now  sire,  and  eft  sire,  so  befell  the  cas, 
That  on  a  day  this  hendy3  Nicholas 
Fel  with  this  yonge  wif  to  rage  and  pleye, 
While  that  hire  husbond  was  at  Oseney, 
As  clerkes  ben  ful  subtil  and  ful  queint. 
And  prively  he  caught  hire  by  the  queint, 
And  sayde ;  Ywis,  but  if  I  have  my  will, 
For  derne4  love  of  thee,  lemman,5 1  spill.8 
And  helde  hire  faste  by  the  hanche  bones, 
And  sayde ;  Lemman,  love  me  wel  at  ones, 
Or  I  wol  dien,  al  so  God  me  save. 

And  she  sprong  as  a  colt  doth  in  the  trave:' 
And  with  hire  hed  she  writhed  faste  away, 
And  sayde ;  I  wol  not  kisse  thee  by  my  fay. 
"Why  let  be,  (quod  she)  let  be,  Nicholas, 
Or  I  wol  crie  out  harow8  and  alas. 
Do  way  your  hondes  for  your  curtesie. 

This  Nicholas  gan  mercy  for  to  crie, 
And  spake  so  faire,  and  profered  him  so  fast, 
That  she  hire  love  him  granted  at  the  last, 
And  swore  hire  oth  by  Seint  Thomas  of  Kent, 
That  she  wold  ben  at  his  commandement, 
Whan  that  she  may  hire  leiser  wel  espie. 
Myn  husbond  is  so  ful  of  jalousie, 
That  but  ye  waiten  wel,  and  be  prive, 
I  wot  right  wel  I  n'am  but  ded,  quod  she. 
Ye  mosten  be  ful  derne  as  in  this  cas. 

Nay,  therof  care  you  not,  quod  Nicholas: 


1  A  primrose. 

2  The  Romans  used  oculus  as  a  term  of  endearment,  and  perhaps 
piggemie,  in  vulgar  language,  only  means  ocellus;  the  eyes  of  that  animal 
being  remarkably  small. — Tyi-whitt. 

3  Courteous.  *  Secret.  s  My  love.  6  I  perish. 
7  A  frame,  in  which  restive  horses  are  put  to  steady  them.  ' 

*  Aloud,  something  like  of  "  Hallo !"    But  see  Tyrwhilt. 


3299-3328.  TIIE  MILLERES  TALE.  03 

A  clerk  had  litberly1  beset  his  while, 
But  if  he  coude  a  carpenter  begile. 
And  thus  they  were  accorded  and  ysworne 
To  waite  a  time,  as  I  have  said  beforne. 
Whan  Nicholas  had  don  thus  every  del, 
And  thacked  hire  about  the  lendes  wel, 
He  kissed  hire  swete,  and  taketh  his  sautrie, 
And  plaieth  fast,  and  maketh  melodic 

Than  fell  it  thus,  that  to  the  parish  cherche 
(Of  Cristes  owen  werkes  for  to  werche)2 
This  good  wif  went  upon  a  holy  day : 
Hire  forehed  shone  as  bright  as  any  day, 
So  was  it  washen,  whan  she  lete  hire  werk. 

Now  was  ther  of  that  chirche  a  parkh  clerk, 
The  which  that  was  ycleped  Absolon. 
Crulle3  was  his  here,  and  as  the  gold  it  shon, 
And  strouted4  as  a  fanne  large  and  brode ; 
Ful  streight  and  even  lay  his  joly  shode.5 
His  rodeb  was  red,  his  eyen  grey  as  goos, 
"With  Poules  windowes7  corven  on  his  shoos. 
In  hosen  red  he  went  ful  fetisly. 
Yclad  he  was  ful  smal  and  proprely, 
All  in  a  kirtel  of  a  light  waget  ;8 
Ful  faire  and  thicke  ben  the  pointes  set. 
And  therupon  he  had  a  gay  surplise, 
As  white  as  is  the  blosme  upon  the  rise.9 

A  mery  child  he  was,  so  God  me  save ; 
Wel  coud  he  leten  blod,  and  clippe,  and  shave, 
And  make  a  chartre10  of  lond,  and  a  quitance. 
In  twenty  manere  coud  he  trip  and  dance, 

•  111.  S  Work,  do. 

•  Curled.  ^Strutted. 

•  Pair.  «  Complexion. 

7  Perhaps  this  means,  that  his  shoes  were  cut  in  squares,  like  panes  of 
glass.  Bale  mentions  fenestrate  calceot  as  making  part  of  the  habit  of 
the  habit  of  the  Franciscans.  Cent,  i v.  27  and  91.  They  also  occur  in 
the  Cistercian  Statutes  an.  1529,  and  the  monks  are  forbidden  to  wear 
them.     Du  Cange,  in  v.  Calcei  fenestrati. — Tynchitt. 

8  Or,  Wittchet.  Skinner  explains  Watchet  to  mean  a  colour,  a  whitish 
blue ;  but  in  this  place  it  seems  rather  to  mean  some  kind  of  cloth; 
denominated,  perhaps,  from  the  town  of  Watchet,  in  Somersetshire. 
Instead  of  tight,  soma  MSS.  read/«  ;  and  MS.  A.  whit.  This  last  epithet 
would  be  quite  inconsistent  with  Skinner's  explanation. — Tyrwhitt. 

9  Small  twigs  or  bushes.  w  Charter. 


94  THE   CANTERBURY   TALES.  3329-33G4. 

(After  the  scole  of  Oxenforde  tho)1 
And  with  his  legges  casten  to  and  fro ; 
And  playen  songes  on  a  smal  ribible  ;2 
Thereto  he  song  somtime3  a  loud  quinible. 
And  as  wel  coud  he  play  on  a  giterne. 
In  all  the  toun  n'as  brewhous  ne  taverne, 
That  he  ne  visited  with  his  solas, 
Ther  as  that  any  gaillard '  tapstere5  was. 
But  soth  to  say  he  was  somdel  squaimous8 
%  Of  farting,  and  of  speche  dangerous. 

This  Absolon,  that  joly  was  and  gay, 
Goth  with  a  censer  on  the  holy  day. 
Censing  the  wives  of  the  parish  faste ; 
And  many  a  lovely  loke  he  on  hem  caste, 
And  namely  on  this  carpenteres  wif: 
To  loke  on  hire  him  thought  a  mery  lif. 
She  was  so  propre,  and  swete,  and  likerous. 
I  dare  wel  sain,  if  she  had  ben  a  mous, 
And  he  a  cat,  he  wolde  hire  hente'  anon. 

This  parish  clerk,  this  joly  Absolon, 
Hath  in  his  herte  swiche  a  love-longing, 
That  of  no  wif  toke  he  non  offering ; 
For  curtesie,  he  sayd,  he  n'olde  non. 

The  moone  at  night  ful  clere  and  brighte  shon, 
And  Absolon  his  giterne  hath  ytake, 
For  paramours8  he  thoughte  for  to  wake. 
And  forth  he  goth,  jolif  and  amorous 
Til  he  came  to  the  carpenteres  hous, 
A  litel  after  the  cockes  had  ycrow, 
And  dressed  him  up  by  a  shot9  window, 
That  was  upon  the  carpenteres  wal. 
He  singeth  in  his  vois  gentil  and  smal; 
Now,  dere  lady, — if  thy  wille  be,10  - 
I  pray  you  that  ye — wol  re  we11  on  me ; 
Ful  wel  wel  accordant  to  his  giterning. 

This  carpenter  awoke,  and  herd  him  sing, 

'  The  school  of  Oxford  seems  to  have  been  in  much  the  same  estima- 
tion for  its  dancing  as  that  of  Stratford  for  its  French.  See  before, 
ver.  125.     Oxenforde  is  a  Quadrisyllable.     Oxnaforda.  Sax. — Tyruhitt. 

2  What  instrument  this  was,  is  not  known. 

3  I.  e.,  sometimes  to.   The  quinible  was  also  a  musical  instrument. 

4  Gay.  5  A  female  keeper  of  a  tap,  or  tavern. 

6  Squeamish.  7  Seize.  8  Lovers.  9  Shut. 

10  These  two  verses  should  probably  form  four  short  lines. — Tyrvshitt. 
11  Take  pity. 


3365-3402.  THE  MILLERES  TALE.  95 

And  spake  unto  his  wif,  and  said  anon, 
What,  Alison,  heres  thou  not  Absolon, 
That  chanteth  thus  under  our  boures1  wal  ? 
And  she  answerd  hire  husbond  therewithal ; 
Yes,  God  wot,  John,  I  here  him  every  del. 

This  passeth  forth ;  what  wol  ye  bet  than  wcl 
Fro  day  to  day  this  joly  Absolon 
So  loveth  hire,  that  him  is  wo-begon. 
He  waketh  all  the  night,  and  all  the  day, 
He  kembeth  his  lockes  brode,  and  made  him  gay, 
He  woeth  hire  by  menes  and  brocage,2 
And  swore  he  wolde  ben  hire  owen  page. 
He  singeth  brokking3  as  a  nightingale. 
He  sent  hire  pinnes,  methe,  and  spiced  ale, 
And  wafres  piping  hot  out  of  the  glede  :* 
And  for  she  was  of  toun,  he  profered  mede. 
For  som  folk  wol  be  wonnen  for  richesse, 
And  som  for  strokes,  and  som  with  gentillesse. 

Somtime  to  shew  his  lightnesse  and  maistrie 
He  plaieth  Herode  on  a  skaffold  hie.' 
But  what  availeth  him  as  in  this  cas? 
So  loveth  she  this  hendy  Nicholas, 
That  Absolon  may  blow  the  buckes  home  f 
He  ne  had  for  his  labour  but  a  scorne. 
And  thus  she  maketh  Absolon  hire  ape, 
And  all  his  ernest  turneth  to  a  jape. 
Ful  soth  is  this  proverbe,  it  is  no  lie ; 
Men  say  right  thus  alway ;  the  neighe  she7 
Maketh  oft  time  the  fers  leef  to  be  lothe. 
For  though  that  Absolon  be  wood'.or  wrothe, 
Because  that  he  fer  was  from  hire  sight, 
This  neighe  Nicholas  stood  in  his  light. 

Now  bere  thee  wel,  thou  hendy  Nicholas, 
For  Absolon  may  waile  and  sing  alas. 

And  so  befell  that  on  a  Saturday, 
This  carpenter  was  gon  to  Osenay, 
And  hendy  Nicholas  and  Alison 
Accorded  ben  to  this  conclusion, 

1  House.  2  By  go-betweens  and  agenU. 

*  Quivering.  «  The  embers. 

8  This  is  much  in  character.   The  parish-clerks  had  always  a  principal 
•hare  in  the  representation  of  mysteries. — Tyrwhiit. 
6  /.  e.,  fail,  profit  nothing.  7  Cunning  one. 

8  Distant.  »  Mad. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  3103-3442. 

That  Nicholas  shal  shapen  him  a  wile 
This  sely1  jalous  husbond  to  begile ; 
And  if  so  were  the  game  went  aright, 
She  shuld  slepe  in  his  armes  alle  night, 
For  this  was  hire  desire  and  his  also. 
And  right  anon,  withouten  wordes  mo, 
This  Nicholas  no  lenger  wolde  tarie, 
But  doth  ful  softe  unto  his  chambre  carie 
Both  mete  and  drinke  for  a  day  or  twey. 

And  to  hire  husbond  bad  hire  for  to  sey, 
If  that  he  axed  after  Nicholas, 
She  shulde  say,  she  n'iste  not  wher  he  was; 
Of  all  the  day  she  saw  him  not  with  eye. 
She  trowed  he  was  in  som  maladie, 
For  for  no  crie  hire  maiden  coud  him  calle 
He  n'olde  answer,  for  nothing  that  might  falle, 

Thus  passeth  forth  all  thilke  Saturday, 
That  Nicholas  still  in  his  chambre  lay, 
And  ete,  and  slept,  and  dide  what  him  list 
Til  Sonday,  that  the  sonne  goth  to  rest. 

This  sely  carpenter  hath  gret  mervaile 
Of  Nicholas,  or  what  thing  might  him  aile, 
And  said ;  I  am  adrad2  by  Seint  Thoma3 
It  stondeth  not  aright  with  Nicholas: 
God  shilde  that  he  died  sodenly. 
This  world  is  now  ful  tikel3  sikerly. 
I  saw  to-day  a  corps  yborne  to  cherche, 
That  now  on  Monday  last  I  saw  him  werche. 

Go  up  (quod  he  unto  his  knave)  anon ; 
Clepe4  at  his  dore,  or  knocke  with  a  ston : 
Loke  how  it  is,  and  tell  me  boldely. 

This  knave  goth  him  up  ful  sturdely, 
And  at  the  chambre  dore  while  that  he  stood, 
He  cried  and  knocked  as  that  he  were  wood : 
What  how?  what  do  ye,  maister  Nicholay? 
How  may  ye  slepen  all  the  longe  day  ? 
But  all  for  nought,  he  herde  not  a  word. 
An  hole  he  fond  ful  low  upon  the  bord, 
Ther  as  the  cat  was  wont  in  for  to  crepe, 
And  at  the  hole  he  loked  in  ful  depe, 

»  Silly.  »  FearfuL 

8  Uncertain.  «  Call. 


3443-3478.  THE  MILLERES  TALE.  97 

And  at  the  last  he  had  of  him  a  sight. 

This  Nicholas  sat  ever  gaping  upright, 
As  he  had  kyked1.  on  the  newe  mone. 

Adovvn  he  goth,  and  telleth  his  maister  sone, 
In  what  array  he  saw  this  ilke  man. 

This  carpenter  to  blissen  him  began, 
And  said ;  Now  helpe  us  Seinte  Frideswide.2 
A  man  wote  litel  what  shal  him  betide. 
This  man  is  fallen  with  his  astronomie 
In  som  woodnesse3  or  in  som  agonie. 
I  thought  ay  wel  how  that  it  shulde  be. 
Men  shulde  not  knowe  of  Goddes  privetee. 
Ya  blessed  be  alway  a  lewed  man, 
That  nought  but  only  his  beleve4  can. 
So  ferd  another  clerk  with  astronomie ; 
He  walked  in  the  feldes  for  to  prie 
Upon  the  sterres,  what  ther  shuld  befalle, 
Til  he  was  in  a  marlepit  yialle.5 
He  saw  not  that.    But  yet  by  Seint  Thomas 
Me  reweth  sore  of  hendy  Nicholas : 
He  shal  be  rated  of0  his  studying, 
If  that  I  may,  by  Jesus  heven  king. 

Get  me  a  staf,  that  I  may  underspore7 
While  that  thou,  Robin,  hevest  of  the  dore: 
He  shal  out  ox  his  studying,  as  I  gesse. 
And  to  the  chambre  dore  he  gan  him  dresse. 
His  knave  was  a  strong  carl  for  the  nones, 
And  by  the  haspe  he  hai  it  oi  at  ones; 
Into  the  flore  the  dore  iell  anon. 

This  Nicholas  sat  ay  as  stille  as  ston, 
And  ever  he  gaped  upward  into  the  eire. 

This  carpenter  wend  he  were  in  despeire, 
And  hent  him  by  the  shulders  mightily, 
And  shoke  him  hard,  and  cried  spitously ; 
What,  Nicholas  ?  what  how  man  ?  loke  adoun 
Awake,  and  thinke  on  Cristes  passioun. 


'  Gazed,  i.  «.,  as  if  he  were  moonstruck. 

2  This  is  very  apposite.  For  St.  Frideswide  was  the  patroness  of  a 
priory  at  Oxford,  upon  the  same  site  as  the  present  cathedral  oi  Christ- 
church.  3  Madness. 

4  /. «.,  that  knows  nothing  but  his  Creed. 

6  A  similar  story  is  told  of  Thales. 

6  Chided  for  studying  too  much.  7  Raise  it  up. 


98  THE  CANTEBBUBY  TALES.  3479-3500. 

I  crouche1  thee  from  elves,  and  from  wightes.* 

Therwith  the  nightspel  said  he  anon  rightes, 

On  foure  halves  of  the  hous  aboute, 

And  on  the  threswold  oi  the  dore  withoute. 

Jesu  Crist,  and  Seint  Benedight,3 

Blisse  this  hous  from  every  wicked  wight, 

Fro  the  nightes  mare,  the  wite  Pater-noster  j 

Wher  wonest  thou  Seint  Peters  suster 

And  at  the  last  this  hendy  Nicholas 
Gan  for  to  siken  sore,  and  said ;  Alas ! 
Shal  all  the  world  be  lost  eftsones  now? 

This  carpenter  answered ;  What  saiest  thou  ? 
What?  thinke  on  God,  as  we  do,  men  that  swinke.4 

This  Nicholas  answered ;  Fetch  me  a  drinke  ; 
And  after  wol  I  speke  in  privetee 
Of  certain  thing  that  toucheth  thee  and  me : 
I  wol  tell  it  non  other  man  certain. 

This  carpenter  goth  doun,  and  cometh  again, 
And  brought  of  mighty  ale  a  large  quart ; 
And  whan  that  eche  of  hem  had  dronken  his  part, 
This  Nicholas  his  dore  faste  shette, 
And  doun  the  carpenter  by  him  he  sette, 

1 1  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  to  guard  thee  from,  etc. 

8  Witche$.  In  the  Teutonic,  Wite-vrouwe  ;  but  whether  they  were  so 
called  from  their  Witdom,  or  from  their  being  supposed  to  be  clothed  in 
white,  is  not  clear.  A  widow  in  that  language  is  called  a  Wit-vrouwe 
from  the  latter  circumstance.  In  Keysler's  Dissertation  de  Mulierilmi 
Fatidicis,  he  has  traced,  with  a  great  deal  of  learning  and  probability, 
the  popular  notions  of  witches  and  witchcraft,  in  the  northern  parts  of 
Europe,  from  a  very  early  period.  The  faculty  of  floating  on  the  water, 
so  as  not  to  be  capable  of  being  drowned,  is  ascribed  by  riiny  to  a  race 
of  male  witches  in  Pontus. — Tyrwhitt. 

3  The  charm,  which  follows,  ver.  3483—6,  is  so  lamely  represented  in 
all  the  MSS.,  that  I  have  left  it  as  I  found  it  in  the  common  editions.  It 
might  perhaps  be  a  little  improved  by  reading  it  thus : 

Jesu  Crist  and  Seint  Benedight 
Blisse  this  hous  from  every  wight, 
Fro  the  nightes  mare.    Pater-noster. 
Wher  wonest  thou  Seint  Peter's  suster? 

In  ver.  2,  wicked  may  be  left  out  upon  the-  authority  of  MS.  A.  and 
others.  It  is  certainly  unnecessary.  Pater-noster  was  often  repeated  in 
the  middle,  as  well  as  at  the  end,  of  charms.  In  ver.  4,  instead  of  wonest, 
some  copies  read  wendest.  I  do  not  understand  how  the  Kight-mare 
came  to  be  allied  to  St.  Peter. 

To  say  the  truth,  I  suspect  this  charm  to  be  an  interpolation. — 
Tyrwhitt.  *  Labour. 


3501-3540.  THE  MILLERES   TALE.  99 

And  saide  ;  John,  min  hoste  lefe  and  dere, 
Thou  shalt  upon  thy  trouthe  swere  me  here, 
That  to  no  wight  thou  shalt  my  conseil  wrey 
For  it  is  Cristes  conseil  that  I  say, 
And  if  thou  tell  it  man,  thou  art  forlore : 
For  this  vengeance  thou  shalt  have  therfore, 
That  if  thou  wreye1  me,  thou  shalt  be  wood. 

Nay,  Crist  forbede  it  for  his  holy  blood 
Quod  tho  this  sely  man ;  I  am  no  labbe,2 
Ne  though  I  say  it,  I  n'am  not  lefe  to  gabbe. 
Say  what  thou  wolt,  I  shal  it  never  telle 
To  child  ne  wif,  by  him  that  harwed3  helle. 

Now,  John,  (quod  Nicholas)  I  wol  not  lie, 
I  have  yfounde  in  min  astrologie, 
As  I  have  loked  in  the  moone  bright, 
That  now  on  Monday  next,  at  quarter  night, 
Shal  fall  a  rain,  and  that  so  wild  and  wood 
That  half  so  gret  was  never  Noes  flood. 
This  world  (he  said)  in  less  than  in  an  houre 
Shal  al  be  dreint,4  so  hidous  is  the  shoure : 
Thus  shal  mankinde  drenche.  and  lese  hir  lif. 

This  carpenter  answerd ;  Alas  my  wif ! 
And  shal  she  drenche  ?  alas  min  Alisoun ! 
For  sorwe  of  this  he  fell  almost  adoun, 
And  said,  Is  ther  no  remedy  in  this  cas  ? 

Why  yes,  for  God,  quod  hendy  Nichola 
If  thou  wolt  werken  after  lore5  and  rede ; 
Thou  maist  not  werken  after  thin  owen  nede. 
For  thus  saith  Salomon,  that  was  ful  trewe  ; 
Werke  all  by  conseil,  and  thou  shalt  not  rewe. 
And  if  thou  werken  wolt  by  good  conseil, 
I  undertake,  withouten  mast  or  seyl, 
Yet  shal  I  saven  hire,  and  thee  and  me. 
Hast  thou  not  herd  how  saved  was  Noe, 
"Whan  that  our  Lord  had  warned  him  beforne, 
That  al  the  world  with  water  shuld  be  lorne  1 

Yes,  (quod  this  carpenter)  ful  yore  ago. 

Hast  thou  not  herd  (quod  Nicholas)  also 
The  sorwe  of  Noe  with  his  felawship/ 
Or  that  he  might  get  his  wif  to  ship  ? 

1  Betray.  *  Blab. 

3  Harrowed, «'.  e.,  conquered,  subdued.  4  Drenched.         s  Advice. 

6  Some  legend  is  alluded  to,  for  the  Bible  says  nothing  on  the  subject. 
Tyrwhitt  observes :  "  The  dispute  between  Noah  and  his  wife  upon  this 


100  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  3541-3564. 

Him  had  be  lever,  I  dare  wel  undertake, 

At  thilke  time,  than  all  his  wethers  blake,1 

That  she  had  had  a  ship  hireseli  alone. 

And  theriore  wost  thou  what  is  best  to  done  ? 

This  axeth  hast,2  and  of  an  hastit  thing 

Men  may  not  preche  and  maken  tarying. 

Anon  go  get  us  fast  into  this  in 

A  kneding  trough  or  elles  a  kemelyn,3 

For  eche  of  us  ;  but  loke  that  they  ben  large, 

In  which  we  mowen  swimme  as  in  a  barge: 

And  have  therin  vitaille  suffisant 

But  for  a  day;  fie  on  the  remenant ; 

The  water  shall  aslake  and  gon  away 

Abouten  prime  upon  the  nexte  day. 

But  Robin  may  not  wete  of  this,  thy  knave, 

Ne  eke  thy  mayden  Gille  I  may  not  save: 

Axe  not  why:  for  though  thou  axe  me, 

I  wol  not  tellen  Goddes  privetee. 

Sufficeth  thee,  but  if  thy  wittes  madde, 

To  have  as  gret  a  grace  as  Noe  hadde. 

Thy  wil  shal  I  wel  saven  out  of  doute. 

Go  now  ^hy  way,  and  spede  thee  hereaboute. 


occasion  makes  a  considerable  part  of  the  3rd  Pageant  of  the  Chester 
WMtsun-Playes  above  mentioned.  MS.  llarl.  2013.  The  following  lines 
will  shew  the  grounds  of  her  refusal  to  embark. 

Koe.    "Wife,  come  in,  why  standes  thou  there? 
Thou  art  ever  froward,  that  dare  I  swore. 
Come  in  on  Godes  halfe;  tyme  it  were, 

For  fear  lest  that  wee  drowne. 
"WIFE.    Yea,  Sir,  set  up  your  saile, 
And  rowe  forth  with  evil  haile, 
For  withouten  anie  faile 

I  wil  not  oute  of  this  toune ; 
But  I  have  my  gossepes  everich  one, 
One  foote  further  I  will  not  gone : 
They  shal  not  drown  by  St.  John, 

And  I  may  save  ther  life. 
They  loved  me  full  well  by  Christ. 
But  thou  will  let  them  into  thie  cliist, 
Ellis  rowe  forthe,  Noe,  when  thou  list, 

And  get  thee  a  newe  wife. 

At  last  Sem,  with  the  assistance  of  his  brethren,  fetches  her  on  board  by 
force,  and  upon  Noah's  welcoming  her  she  gives  him  a  box  on  the  ear." 
1  Black.  2  Requireth  haste.  3  Tub. 


8565-3606.  THE  MILLERES  TALE.  101 

But  whan  thou  hast  for  hire,  and  thee,  and  me 
Ygeten  ua  these  kneding  tubbes  thre, 
Than  shalt  thou  hang  hem  in  the  roofe  ful  hie, 
That  no  man  oi  our  purveyance  espie : 
And  whan  thou  hast  don  thus  as  I  have  said, 
And  hast  our  vitaille  faire  in  hem  ylaid, 
And  eke  an  axe  to  smite  the  cord  a-two 
Whan  that  the  water  cometh,  that  we  may  go, 
And  breke  an  hole  on  high  upon  the  gable 
Unto  the  gardin  ward,  over  the  stable, 
That  we  may  frely  passen  forth  our  way, 
Whan  that  the  grete  shoure  is  gon  away. 
Than  shal  thou  swim  as  mery,  I  undertake, 
As  doth  the  white  doke  after  hire  drake :  » 
Than  wol  I  clepe,  How  Alison,  how  John, 
Be  mery:  for  the  flood  wol  passe  anon. 
And  thou  wolt  sain,  Haile  maister  Nicholay, 
Good  morwe,  I  see  thee  wel,  for  it  is  day. 
And  than  shall  we  be  lordes  all  our  lif 
Of  all  the  world,  as  Noe  and  his  wif. 
But  of  o  thing  I  warne  thee  ful  right, 
Be  wel  avised  on  that  ilke  night, 
That  we  ben  entred  into  shippes  bord, 
That  non  of  us  ne  speke  not  o  word, 
Ne  clepe  ne  crie,  but  be  iu  his  praiere, 
For  it  is  Goddes  owen  heste  dere. 

Thy  wif  and  thou  moste  hangen  fer  a-twinne, 
For  that  betwixen  you  shal  be  no  sinne, 
No  more  in  loking  than  ther  shal  in  dede. 
This  ordinance  is  said;  go,  God  thee  spede 
To-morwe  at  night,  whan  men  ben  all  aslepe, 
Into  our  kneding  tubbes  wol  we  crepe, 
And  sitten  ther,  abiding  Goddes  grace. 
Go  now  thy  way,  T  have  no  lenger  space 
To  make  of  this  no  lenger  sermoning: 
Men  sain  thus:  send  the  wise,  and  say  nothing: 
Thou  art  so  wise,  it  nedeth  thee  nought  teche. 
Go,  save  our  lives,  and  that  I  thee  beseche. 

This  sely  carpenter  goth  forth  his  way, 
Ful  oft  he  said  alas,  and  wala  wa, 
And  to  his  wif  he  told  his  privetee, 
And  she  was  ware,  and  knew  it  bet  than  he 
What  all  this  queinte  cast  was  for  to  sey. 
But  natheles  she  ferde  as  she  would  dey, 

9* 


102  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES  3607-3646. 

And  said ;  Alas !  go  forth  thy  way  anon. 
Helpe  us  to  scape,  or  we  be  ded  eche  on. 
I  am  thy  trewe  veray  wedded  wif ; 
Go,  dere  spouse,  and  helpe  to  save  our  lif. 

Lo,  what  a  gret  thing  is  affection, 
Men  may  die  of  imagination, 
So  depe  may  impression  be  take. 
This  sely  carpenter  beginneth  quake: 
Him  thinketh  veraily  that  he  may  see 
Noes  flood  comen  walwing1  as  the  see 
To  drenchen  Alison,  his  hony  dere. 
He  wepeth,  waileth,  maketh  sory  chere ; 
He  siketh,  with  ful  many  a  sory  swough.' 
He  goth,  and  geteth  him  a  kneding  trough, 
And  after  a  tubbe,  and  a  kemelin, 
And  prively  he  sent  hem  to  his  in : 
And  heng  hem  in  the  roof  in  privetee. 
His  owen  hond3  than  made  he  ladders  three, 
To  climben  by  the  renges  and  the  stalkes4 
Unto  the  tubbes  honging  in  the  balkes  ;5 
And  vitailled  bothe  kemelin,  trough  and  tubbe, 
With  bred  and  chese,  and  good  ale  in  a  jubbe, 
Sufficing  right  ynow  as  for  a  day. 

But  er  that  he  had  made  all  this  array, 
He  sent  his  knave,  and  eke  his  wenche  also 
Upon  his  nede  to  London  for  to  go. 
And  on  the  Monday,  whan  it  drew  to  night, 
He  shette  his  dore,  withouten  candel  light, 
And  dressed  all  thing  as  it  shulde  bee. 
And  shortly  up  they  clomben  alle  three. 
They  sitten  stille  wel  a  furlong  way. 
Now,  Pater  noster,  clum,6  said  Nicholay: 
And  clum,  quod  John,  and  clum,  said  Alison: 
This  carpenter  said  his  devotion, 
And  still  he  sit,  and  biddeth  his  praiere, 
Awaiting  on  the  rain,  if  he  it  here. 

The  dede  slepe,  for  wery  besinesse, 
Fell  on  this  carpenter,  right  as  I  gesse, 
Abouten  curfew-time,  or  litel  more. 
For  travaille  of  his  gost7  he  groneth  sore, 

1  Rolling.  -  Sound.  3  By  his  own  hand. 

*  J.  e.  The  steps  and  upright  posts  of  a  ladder.  5  The  rafters 

*  Mum.    From  the  Latin  muttitare,  to  mumble,  to  mutter. 

7  Spirit. 


3647-3688.  THE  MILLERES  TALE.  103 

And  eft  he  routeth,  for  his  hed  mislay. 
Doun  of  the  ladder  stalketh  Nicholay, 
And  Alison  ful  soft  adoun  hire  spedde 
Withouten  wordes  mo  they  went  to  bedde, 
Ther  as  the  carpenter  was  wont  to  lie; 
Ther  was  the  revel,  and  the  melodie. 
And  thus  lith  Alison,  and  Nicholas, 
In  besinesse  of  mirthe  and  in  solas, 
Til  that  the  bel  of  lavdes  gan  to  ring, 
And  freres1  in  the  chancel  gon  to  sing. 

This  parish  clerk,  this  amorous  Absolon, 
That  is  for  love  alway  so  wo-begon, 
Upon  the  Monday  was  at  Osenay 
With  compagnie,  him  to  disport  and  play; 
And  asked  upon  cas  a  cloisterer 
Ful  prively  after  John  the  carpenter ; 
And  he  drew  him  apart  out  of  the  chirche. 
He  said,  I  n'ot ;  I  saw  him  not  here  wircho 
Sith  Saturday;  I  trow  that  he  be  went 
For  timbre,  ther  our  abbot  hath  him  sent. 
For  he  is  wont  for  timbre  for  to  go, 
And  dwellen  at  the  Grange  a  day  or  two: 
Or  elles  he  is  at  his  hous  certain. 
Wher  that  he  be,  I  cannot  sothly  sain. 

This  Absolon  ful  joly  was  and  light, 
And  thoughte,  now  is  time  to  wake  al  night, 
For  sikerly,  I  saw  him  nat  stiring 
About  his  dore,  sin  day  began  to  spring. 
So  mote  I  thrive,  I  shal  at  cockes  crow 
Ful  prively  go  knocke  at  his  window, 
That  stant  ful  low  upon  his  boures  wall: 
To  Alison  wol  I  now  tellen  all 
My  love-longing  ;  for  yet  I  shall  not  misse^ 
That  at  the  leste  way  I  shall  hire  kisse. 
Some  maner  comfort  shal  I  have  parfay, 
My  mouth  hath  itched  all  this  longe  day: 
That  is  a  signe  of  kissing  at  the  leste. 
All  night  me  mette  eke,  I  was  at  a  ieste. 
TherfOre  I  will  go  slepe  an  houre  or  twey, 
And  all  the  night  than  wol  I  wake  and  pley. 

Whan  that  the  firste  cock  hath  crowe,  anon 
Up  rist  this  joly  lover  Absolon, 

1  Brethren. 


104  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  3689-3730. 

And  him  arayeth  gay,  at  point  devise. 
But  first  he  cheweth  grein  and  licorise, 
To  smellen  sote,  or  he  had  spoke  with  here. 
Under  his  tonge  a  trewe  love1  he  here, 
For  therby  wend  he  to  ben  gracious. 
He  cometh  to  the  carpenteres  hous, 
And  still  he  stant  under  the  shot  window; 
Unto  his  brest  it  raught,2  it  was  so  low; 
And  soft  he  cougheth  with  a  semisoun. 

What  do  ye  honycombe,  swete  Alisoun] 
My  faire  bird,  my  swete  sinamome, 
Awaketh,  lemman  min,  and  speketh  to  me. 
Ful  litel  thinken  ye  upon  my  wo, 
That  for  your  love  I  swete  ther  as  I  go. 
•  No  wonder  is  though  that  I  swelte  and  swete. 
I  moume  as  doth  a  lamb  after  the  tete. 
Ywis,  lemman,  I  have  swiche  love-longing, 
That  like  a  turtel  trewe  is  my  mourning. 
I  may  not  ete  no  more  than  a  maid. 

Go  fro  the  window,  jacke  fool,  she  said: 
As  helpe  me  God,  it  wol  not  be,  compame.8 
I  love  another,  or  elles  I  were  to  blame, 
Wei  bet  than  thee  by  Jesu,  Absolon. 
Go  forth  thy  way,  or  I  wol  cast  a  ston; 
And  let  me  slepe ;  a  twenty  divel  way. 

Alas!  (quod  Absolon)  and  wala  wa ! 
That  trewe  love  was  ever  so  yvel  besette: 
Than  kisse  me,  sin  that  it  may  be  no  bette, 
For  Jesus  love,  and  for  the  love  ol  me. 

Wilt  thou  than  go  thy  way  therwith?  quoa  sue. 
Ya  certes,  lemman,  quod  this  Absolon. 
Than  make  thee  redy  (quod  she)  I  come  anon. 

This  Absolon  doun  set  him  on  his  knees, 
And  saide ;  I  am  a  lord  at  all  degrees : 
For  alter  this  I  hope  ther  cometh  more ; 
Lemman,  thy  grace,  and,  swete  bird,  thyn  ore.4 

The  window  she  undoth,  and  that  in  haste. 
Have  don,  (quod  she)  come  of,  and  spede  thee  faste. 
Lest  that  our  neigheboures  thee  espie. 

This  Absolon  gan  wipe  his  mouth  fal  drie. 
Derke  was  the  night,  as  pitch  or  as  the  cole, 
And  at  the  window  she  put  out  hire  hole, 

1  What  this  can  be,  I  know  not  -  Reached. 

3  Companion,  friend.  4  Grace. 


3731-3772.  THE  MILLERES  TALE.  105 

And  Absolon  him  felle  ne  bet  ne  wers, 
But  with  his  mouth  he  kist  hire  naked  ers 
Ful  savorly,  er  he  was  ware  of  this. 

Abak  he  sterte,  and  thoughte  it  was  amis, 
For  wel  he  wist  a  woman  hath  no  herd. 
He  felt  a  thing  all  rowe,  and  long  yherd, 
And  saide;  fy,  alas!  what  have  I  do? 

Te  he,  quod  she,  and  clapt  the  window  to ; 
And  Absolon  goth  forth  a  sory  pas. 

A  berd,  a  berd,  said  hendy  Nicholas ; 
Ey  goddes  corpus,  this  goth  faire  and  wel. 

This  sely  Absolon  herd  every  del, 
And  on  his  lippe  he  gan  for  anger  bite ; 
And  to  himself  he  said,  I  shal  thee  quite. 
"Who  rubbeth  now,  who  froteth  now  his  lippes 
With  dust,  with  sond,  with  straw,  with  cloth,  with 
But  Absolon]  that  saith  full  oft,  alas!  [chippes, 

My  soule  betake  I  unto  Sathanas, 
But  me  were  lever  than  all  this  toun  (quod  he) 
Of  this  despit  awroken  for  to  be. 
Alas!  alas!  that  I  ne  had  yblent. 
His  bote  love  is  cold,  and  all  yqueint. 
For  fro  that  time  that  he  had  kist  hire  ers 
Of  paramours  ne  raught  he  not  a  kers, 
For  he  was  heled  of  his  maladie ; 
Ful  often  paramours  he  gan  defie, 
And  wepe  as  doth  a  child  that  is  ybete. 
A  softe  pas  he  went  him  over  the  strete 
Until  a  smith,  men  callen  dan  Gerveis, 
That  in  his  forge  smithed  plow-harneis ; 
He  shavpeth  share  and  cultre  besily. 
This  Absolon  knocketh  all  esily, 
And  said ;  Undo,  Gerveis,  and  that  anon. 

What,  who  art  thou ]    It  am  I  Absolon. 
What,  Absolon,  what]    Cristes  swete  tre,1 
Why  rise  ye  so  rath]2  ey  benedicite, 
What  eileth  you]  some  gay  girle,  God  it  wote, 
Hath  brought  you  thus  upon  the  viretote  :3 
By  Seint  Neote,  ye  wote  wel  what  I  mene. 

This  Absolon  ne  raughte  not  a  bene 
Of  all  his  play ;  no  word  again  he  yaf. 
He  hadde  more  tawe  on  his  distaf  * 

1  /.  e.,  the  cross.  *  Early. 

*  The  meaning  of  this  word  is  unknown. 
■*  /. «.,  he  was  planning  more. 


106  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  3773-3814. 

Than  Gerveis  knew,  and  saide ;  Frend  so  dere, 
That  hote  culter  in  the  cheminee  here 
As  lene1  it  me,  I  have  therwith  to  don ; 
I  wol  it  bring  again  to  thee  ful  sone. 

Gerveis  answered ;  Certes,  were  it  gold, 
Or  in  a  poke2  nobles  all  untold, 
Thou  shuldest  it  have,  as  I  am  trewe  smith. 
Ey,  Cristes  foot,  what  wol  ye  don  therwith? 
Therof,  quod  Absolon,  be  as  be  may; 
I  shal  wel  tellen  thee  another  day: 
And  caught  the  culter  by  the  colde  stele. 
Ful  soft  out  at  the  dore  he  gan  to  stele, 
And  went  unto  the  carpenteres  wall. 
He  coughed  first,  and  knocked  therwithall 
Upon  the  window,  right  as  he  did  er. 

This  Alison  answered ;  "Who  is  ther 
That  knocketh  sol    I  warrant  him  a  thefe. 
Nay,  nay,  (quod  he)  God  wot,  my  swete  lefe, 
I  am  thin  Absolon,  thy  dereling. 
Of  gold  (quod  he)  I  have  thee  brought  a  ring, 
My  mother  yave  it  me,  so  God  me  save, 
Ful  fine  it  is,  and  therto  wel  ygrave : 
This  wol  I  yeven  thee,  if  thou  me  kisse. 

This  Nicholas  was  risen  for  to  pisse, 
And  thought  he  wolde  amenden  all  the  jape, 
He  shulde  kisse  his  ers  er  that  he  scape : 
And  up  the  window  did  he  hastily, 
And  out  his  ers  he  putteth  prively 
Over  the  buttok,  to  the  hanche  bon. 
And  therwith  spake  this  clerk,  this  Absolon, 
Speke  swere  bird,  I  n'ot  not  wher  thou  art. 

This  Nicholas  anon  let  fleen  a  fart, 
As  gret  as  it  had  ben  a  thonder  dint, 
That  with  the  stroke  he  was  wel  nie  yblint: 
And  he  was  redy  with  his  yren  hote, 
And  Nicholas  amid  the  ers  he  smote. 

Off  goth  the  skinne  an  hondbrede  al  aboute. 
The  hote  culter  brenned  so  his  toute, 
That  for  the  smert  he  wened  for  to  die ; 
As  he  were  wood,  for  wo  he  gan  to  crie, 
Help,  water,  water,  help  for  Goddes  herte. 

This  carpenter  out  of  his  slomber  sterte, 

»  Wilt  lend.  3  Touch. 


8815-3852.  THE  MILLERES  TALE.  107 

And  herd  on  crie  water,  as  he  were  wood, 
And  thought,  alas,  now  cometh  Noes  flood 
He  set  him  up  withouten  wordes  mo, 
And  with  his  axe  he  smote  the  cord  atwo ; 
And  doun  goth  all ;  he  fond  neyther  to  sella 
Ne  breed  ne  ale,  til  he  came  to  the  selle,1 
Upon  the  flore,  and  ther  aswoune  he  lay. 

Up  sterten  Alison  and  Nicholay, 
And  crieden,  out  and  harow !  in  the  strete. 

The  neigheboures  bothe  smale  and  grete 
In  rannen,  for  to  gauren2  on  this  man, 
That  yet  aswoune  lay,  bothe  pale  and  wan: 
For  with  the  fall  he  brosten  hath  his  arm. 
But  stonden  he  must  unto  his  owen  harm, 
For  whan  he  spake,  he  was  anon  bore  doun 
With  hendy  Nicholas  and  Alisoun. 
They  tolden  every  man  that  he  was  wood!3 
He  was  agaste  so  of  Noes  flood 
Thurgh  fantasie,  that  of  his  vanitee 
He  had  ybought  him  kneding  tubbes  three, 
And  had  hem  honged  in  the  roof  above ; 
And  that  he  praied  hem  for  Goddes  lovo 
To  sitten  in  the  roof  par  compagnie. 

The  folk  gan  laughen  at  his  fantasie. 
Into  the  roof  they  kyken,4  and  they  gape, 
And  turned  all  his  harm  into  a  jape. 
For  what  so  that  this  carpenter  answerd, 
It  was  for  nought,  no  man  his  reson  herd. 
With  othes  gret  he  was  so  sworne  adoun, 
That  he  was  holden  wood  in  all  the  toun. 
For  everich  clerk  anon  right  held  with  other; 
They  said,  the  man  was  wood,  my  leve  brother  J 
And  every  wight  gan  laughen  at  this  strif. 

Thus  swived  was  the  carpenteres  wif, 
For  all  his  keping,  and  his  jalousie ; 
And  Absolon  hath  kist  hire  nether  eye ; 
And  Nicholas  is  scalded  in  the  toute. 
This  tale  is  don,  and  God  save  all  the  route. 

1  The  ground.  a  Stare 

■Mad.  *  Que. 


108 


THE  EEVES  PROLOGUK 

3853-3882. 

Witan  folk  han  laughed  at  this  nice  cas 

Of  Absolon  and  hendy  Nicholas, 

Diverse  folk  diversely  they  saide, 

But  for  the  more  part  they  lought  and  plaide ; 

Ne  at  this  tale  I  saw  no  man  him  greve, 

But  it  were  only  Osewold  the  Beve, 

Because  he  was  of  carpenteres  craft, 

A  litel  ire  is  in  his  herte  ylaft ; 

He  gan  to  grutch  and  blamen  it  a  lite. 

So  the  ik,1  quod  he,  f ul  wel  coude  I  him  quit© 

With  blering2  of  a  proude  milleres  eye, 

If  that  me  list  to  speke  of  ribaudrie. 

But  ik3  am  olde ;  me  list  not  play  for  age ; 

Gras  time  is  don,  my  foddre  is  now  forage. 

This  white  top  writeth  min  olde  yeres ; 

Min  herte  is  also  mouled  as  min  heres ; 

But  if  I  fare  as  doth  an  open-ers  ;4 

That  ilke  fruit  is  ever  lenger  the  wers 

Til  it  be  roten5  in  mullok6  or  in  stre. 

We  olde  men,  I  drede,  so  faren  we, 
Til  we  be  roten,  can  we  not  be  ripe ; 
We  hoppe  alway,  while  that  the  world  wol  pipe; 
For  in  our  will  ther  stiketh  ever  a  nayl, 
To  have  an  hore  hed  and  a  grene  tayl, 
As  hath  a  leke ;  for  though  our  might  be  gon, 
Our  will  desireth  folly  ever  in  on: 
For  whan  we  may  not  don,  than  wol  we  speken, 
Yet  in  our  ashen  cold  is  fire  yreken. 

Foure  gledes  han  we,  which  I  shal  devise 
Avaunting,  lying,  anger,  and  covetise. 

1  So  may  I  fare. 

a  I.  e.,  with  a  story  of  a  miller  being  imposed  upon. 

3j.  *  The  medlar. 

*  Rotten.  6  Dung. 


3883-3918.  THE  REVE3   PROLOGUE.  109 

These  foure  sparkes  longen  unto  elde. 
Our  olde  limes1  mow  wel  ben  unwelde,* 
But  will  ne  shal  not  iaillen,  that  is  sothe. 
And  yet  have  I  alway  a  coltes  tothe, 
As  many  a  yere  as  it  is  passed  henne, 
Sin  that  my  tappe  ol  lif  began  to  renne. 
For  sikerly,  whan  I  was  borne,  anon 
Deth  drow  the  tappe  of  lif,  and  let  it  gon: 
And  ever  sith  hath  so  the  tappe  yronne, 
Til  that  almost  all  empty  is  the  tonne. 
The  streme  of  lif  now  droppeth  on  the  chimbe.* 
The  sely  tonge  may  wel  ringe  and  chimbe 
Of  wretchednesse,  that  passed  is  ful  yore: 
"With  olde  folk,  save  dotage,  is  no  more. 

Whan  that  our  Hoste  had  herd  this  sermoning, 
lie  gan  to  speke  as  lordly  as  a  king, 
And  sayde ;  What  amounteth  all  this  wit? 
"What?  shal  we  speke  all  day  of  holy  writ? 
The  divel  made  a  Eeve  for  to  preche, 
Or  of  a  souter'  a  shipman,  or  a  leche. 

Say  forth  thy  tale,  and  tary  not  the  time: 
Lo  Depeford,  and  it  is  halt  way  prime  :5 
Lo  Grenewich,  ther  many  a  shrew  is  inne. 
It  were  al  time  thy  tale  to  beginne. 

Now,  sires,  quod  this  Osewold  the  Reve, 
I  pi'ay  you  alle,  that  ye  not  you  greve, 
Though  I  answere,  and  somdel  set  his  howve,8 
For  leful  is  with  force  force  off  to  showve. 

This  dronken  Miller  hath  ytold  us  here, 
How  that  begiled  was  a  carpentere, 
Paraventure  in  scorne,  for  I  am  on : 
And  by  your  leve,  I  shal  him  quite  anon. 
Eight  in  his  cherles  termes  wol  I  speke. 
I  pray  to  God  his  necke  mote  to-breke. 
He  can  wel  in  min  eye  seen  a  stalk, 
But  in  his  owen  he  cannot  seen  a  balk. 

I  Limbs.  2  Unwieldy. 

8  Kime,  Teut.  means  the  prominency  of  the  staves  beyond  the  head  of 
the  barrel.    The  imagery  is  very  exact  and  beautiful. — Tyrwhitt. 

*  Sutor,  a  cobbler. 

*  /. «.,  half-past  seveni  a.  u.  See  Tyrwhitt.  •  Hood,  or  cap. 


10 


110 

8919-3940. 


At  Trompington,  not  fer  fro  Cantebrigge, 

Ther  goth  a  brook,  and  over  that  a  brigge,1 

Upon  the  which  e  brook  ther  stont  a  melle : 

And  this  is  veray  sothe,  that  I  you  telle. 

A  miller  was  ther  dwelling  many  a  day, 

As  any  peacok  he  was  proud  and  gay : 

Pipen  he  coude,  and  fishe,  and  nettes  bete,* 

And  turnen  cuppes,  and  wrastlen  wel,  and  shete.* 

Ay  by  his  belt  he  bare  a  long  pavade,4 

Aid  of  a  swerd  ful  trenchant5  was  the  Wade. 

A  joly  popper5  bare  he  in  his  pouche; 

Ther  n'as  no  man  for  peril  dorst  him  touche. 

A  Shefeld  thwitel*  bare  he  in  his  hose. 

Round  was  his  face,  and  camuse8  was  his  nose. 

As  pilled9  as  an  ape  was  his  skull. 

He  was  a  market-beter10  at  the  full. 

There  dorste  no  wight  hond  upon  him  legge, 

That  he  ne  swore  he  shuld  anon  abegge.11 

A  thefe  he  was  forsoth,  of  corn  and  mele, 
And  that  a  slie,  and  usant12  for  to  stele. 
His  name  was  hoten  deinous  Simekin.13 
A  wif  he  hadde,  comen  of  noble  kin : 

»  Bridge.  2  Mend.  8  shoot. 

4  Some  weapon  of  offence.  6  Cutting. 

6  Probably  a  pistol.    Some  say  a  bodkin.  7  Whittle. 

8  Flat.  »Bald. 

10  Either  a  "  raiser  of  market-prices"  (Upton),  or  one  who  swaggers 
about  the  market. — See  Tyrvshitt,  gl.  u  Suffer  for  it. 

u  Used,  accustomed. 

13  His  name  was  Simon,  ver.  4020,  4,  of  which  Simekin  is  the  dimi- 
nutive ;  and  from  his  disdainful,  insolent  manners  he  had  acquired  the 
surname  of  Deinous,  just  as  Nicholas,  in  the  former  tale,  ver.  3199, "  was 
cleped  Hendy,"  from  the  very  opposite  behaviour.  A  great  number  of 
our  surnames  have  been  derived  from  qualities  of  the  mind,  and  it  is 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  at  the  beginning  they  were  merely  personal. 


The  Reves  Tale. 


3941-3978.  THE  EEVES  TALE.  Ill 

The  person  of  the  toun  hire  father  was. 
With  hire  he  yaf  ful  many  a  pan  of  bras, 
For  that  Simkin  shuld  in  his  blood  allie. 
She  was  yfostered  in  a  nonnerie: 
For  Simkin  wolde  no  wif,  as  he  sayde, 
But  she  were  wel  ynourished,  and  a  mayde, 
To  saven  his  estat  of  yemanrie : 
And  she  was  proud,  and  pert  as  is  a  pie. 
A  ful  faire  sight  was  it  upon  hem  two. 
On  holy  dayes  beforne  hire  wold  he  go 
With  his  tipet  ybounde  about  his  hed ; 
And  she  came  after  in  a  gite1  of  red, 
And  Simkin  hadde  hosen  of  the  same. 
Ther  dorste  no  wight  clepen  hire  but  dame: 
Was  non  so  hardy,  that  went  by  the  way, 
That  with  hire  dorste  rage  or  ones  play, 
But  if  he  wold  be  slain  of  Simekin 
With  pavade,  or  with  knif,  or  bodekin. 
(For  jalous  folk  ben  perilous  evermo: 
Algate2  they  wold  hir  wives  wenden  so.) 
And  eke  for  she  was  somdel  smoterlich,3 
She  was  as  digne  as  water  in  a  dich, 
And  al  so  ful  of  hoker,  and  of  bismare. 
Hire  thoughte  that  a  ladie  shuld  hire  spare, 
What  for  hire  kinrede,  and  hire  nortelrie,4 
That  she  had  lerned  in  the  nonnerie. 

A  doughter  hadden  they  betwix  hem  two 
Of  twenty  yere,  withouten  any  mo, 
Saving  a  child  that  was  of  half  yere  age, 
In  cradle  it  lay,  and  was  a  propre  page.* 
This  wenche  thicke  and  wel  ygrowen  was, 
With  camuse  nose,  and  eyen  gi  iy  as  glas ; 
With  buttokes  brode,  and  brestes  round  and  hie; 
But  right  faire  was  hire  here,6  I  wol  nat  lie. 

The  person  of  the  toun,  for  she  was  faire, 
In  purpos  was  to  maken  hire  his  haire 
Both  of  his  catel,  and  of  his  mesuage, 
And  strange  he  made  it  of  hire  mariage. 

like  what  we  call  nicknames.  It  is  probable  that  the  use  of  hereditary 
surnames  was  not,  even  in  Chaucer's  time,  fully  established  among  the 
lower  classes  of  people. — Tyrxchitt. 

1  Gown.  a  Always.  s  Dirty. 

*  :.  urture,  education.  *  Boy.  •  Hair. 


112  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  3970-4012. 

His  purpos  was  for  to  bestowe  hire  hie 

Into  som  worthy  blood  of  ancestrie. 

For  holy  chirches  good  mote  ben  despended 

On  holy  chirches  blood  that  is  descended. 

Therlore  he  wolde  his  holy-blood  honoure, 

Though  that  he  holy  chirche  shuld  devoure. 
Gret  soken1  hath  this  miller  out  of  doute 

With  whete  and  malt,  of  all  the  land  about©  ; 

And  namely  ther  was  a  gret  college 

Men  clepe  the  Soler  hall2  at  Cantebrege, 

Ther  was  hir  whete  and  eke  hir  malt  yground 

And  on  a  day  it  happed  in  a  stound,3 

Sike  lay  the  manciple  on  a  maladie, 

Men  wenden  wisly4  that  he  shulde  die. 

For  which  this  miller  stale  both  mele  and  corn 

An  hundred  times  more  than  beforn. 

For  therbeforn  he  stale  but  curteisly, 

But  now  he  was  a  thefe  outrageously. 

For  which  the  wardein  chidde  and  made  fare,5 

But  therof  set  the  miller  not  a  tare ; 

He  craked  bost,6  and  swore  it  n'as  not  so. 
Than  were  ther  yonge  poure  scoleres  two, 

That  dwelten  in  the  halle  ol  which  I  say; 

Testif  they  were,  and  lusty  for  to  play 

And  only  for  hir  mirth  and  revelrie 

Upon  the  wardein  besily  they  crie, 

To  yeve  hem  leve  but  a  litel  stound, 

To  gon  to  mille,  and  seen  hir  corn  yground: 

And  hardily  they  dorsten  lay  hir  necke, 

The  miller  shuld  not  stele  hem  half  a  pecke 

Ot  corn  by  sleighte,  ne  by  force  him  reve. 
And  at  the  last  the  wardein  yave  hem  leve : 

John  highte  that  on,  and  Alein  highte  that  other, 

Of  o  toun  were  they  born,  that  highte  Strother,7 
'  Toll. 
9  It  means  the  Hall  with  the  Sohr.  Before  the  students  in  our  Univer- 
sities were  incorporated,  they  lived  in  lodging-houses,  called  Inns, 
Halls,  and  Hostels,  which  were  often  distinguished  by  names  taken  from 
some  peculiarity  in  their  construction.  One  at  Cambridge  was  called 
Tyled  Osile.  And  at  Oxford  Oriel-College  probably  derives  its  name 
from  a  large  Messuage,  vulgarly  known  by  the  name  of  Le  Oriele,  upon 
the  site  of  which  it  stands.  An  Oriel,  or  Oriol,  was  a  Porch ;  as  a  Soler 
seems  originally  to  have  signified  an  open  gallery,  or  balcony,  at  the  top 
of  the  house. — Tyrwhitt.  3  In  a  moment,  on  a  sudden. 

4  Thought  for  certain.  5  Ado.  6  Spoke  aloud. 

7  There  is  a  Struther,  or  Strouther,  in  the  Shire  of  Fife. 


4013-4052.  THE  REVES  TALE.  113 

Fer  in  the  North,  I  can  not  tellen  where. 

This  Alein  maketh  redy  all  his  gere, 
And  on  a  hors  the  sak  he  cast  anon : 
Forth  goth  Alein  the  clerk,  and  also  John, 
With  good  swerd  and  with  bokeler  by  hir  side. 
John  knew  the  way,  him  neded  not  no  guide, 
And  at  the  mille  the  sak  adoun  he  laith. 

Alein  spake  first;  All  haile,  Simond,  in  faith, 
How  fares1  thy  faire  doughter,  and  thy  wii  ? 

Alein,  welcome  (quod  Simkin)  by  my  lif, 
And  John  also :  how  now,  what  do  ye  here  ? 
By  God,  Simond,  (quod  John)  nede  has  no  pere.8 
Him  behoves  serve  himself  that  has  na  swain, 
Or  elles  he  is  a  fool,  as  clerkes  sain. 
Our  manciple  I  hope3  he  wol  be  ded, 
Swa4  werkes  ay  the  wanges5  in  his  hed: 
And  therfore  is  I  com,  and  eke  Alein, 
To  grind  our  corn  and  cary  it  hame  agein: 
I  pray  you  spede  us  henen6  that  ye  may. 

It  shal  be  don  (quod  Simkin)  by  my  fay. 
What  wol  ye  don  while  that  it  is  in  hand  ? 
By  God,  right  by  the  hopper  wol  I  stand, 
(Quod  John)  and  seen,  how  that  the  corn  gas  in. 
Yet  saw  I  never  by  my  fader  kin, 
How  that  the  hopper  wagges  til  and  fra. 

Alein  answered ;  John,  and  wolt  thou  swa? 
Than  wol  I  be  benethe  by  my  croun, 
And  see  how  that  the  mele  falles  adoun 
In  til  the  trogh,  that  shal  be  my  disport : 
For,  John,  in  faith  I  may  ben  of  your  sort; 
I  is  as  ill  a  miller  as  is  ye. 

This  miller  smiled  at  hir  nicetee, 
And  thought,  all  this  n'is  don  but  for  a  wile. 
They  wenen  that  no  man  may  hem  begile, 
But  by  my  thrift  yet  shal  I  blere  hir  eie, 
For  all  the  sleighte  in  hir  philosophie. 
The  more  queinte  knakkes  that  they  make, 
The  more  wol  I  stele  whan  that  I  take. 
In  stede  of  flour  yet  wol  I  yeve  hem  bren. 
The  gretest  clerkes  ben  not  the  wisest  men, 

1  Chaucer,  it  may  be  observed,  has  given  his  clerks  a  northern  dialect. 
—See  Tynchitt.  3  Match.  3  Expect. 

*  So.  *  Cheek-teeth.  6  Hence. 

10* 


114  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  4053-4086. 

As  whilom  to  the  wolf  thus  spake  the  mare  :l 
Of  all  hir  art  ne  count  I  not  a  tare. 

Out  at  the  dore  he  goth  ful  prively, 
"Whan  that  he  saw  his  time,  softely. 
He  loketh  up  and  doun,  till  he  hath  found 
The  clerkes  hors,  ther  as  he  stood  ybound 
Behind  the  mille,  under  a  levesell;2 
And  to  the  hors  he  goth  him  faire  and  well, 
And  stripeth  of  the  bridel  right  anon. 

And  whan  the  hors  was  laus,  he  gan  to  gon 
Toward  the  fen,  ther  wilde  mares  renne, 
And  forth,  with  wehee,3  thurgh  thick  and  thinne. 
This  miller  goth  again,  no  word  he  said, 
But  doth  his  note,4  and  with  these  clerkes  plaid, 
Till  that  hir  corn  was  faire  and  wel  yground. 
And  whan  the  mele  is  sacked  and  ybound, 
This  John  goth  out,  and  fint  his  hors  away, 
And  gan  to  crie,  harow  and  wala  wa ! 
Our  hors  is  lost:  Alein,  for  Godde3  banes^ 
Step  on  thy  feet;  come  of,  man,  al  at  anes: 
Alas !  our  wardein  has  his  palfrey  lorn. 

This  Alein  al  forgat  both  mele  and  corn ; 
Al  was  out  of  his  mind  his  husbandrie ! 
"What,  whilke  way  is  he  gon  ?  he  gan  to  crie. 

The  wif  came  leping  inward  at  a  renne, 
She  sayd ;  Alas !  youre  horse  goth  to  the  ferme 
With  wilde  mares,  as  fast  as  he  may  go, 
TJnthank  come  on  his  hand  that  bond  him  so, 
And  he  that  better  shuld  have  knit  the  rein. 

Alas !  (quod  John)  Alein,  for  Christes  pein 
Lay  doun  thy  swerd,  and  I  shal  min  alswa, 
I  is  ful  wight,  God  wate,  as  is  a  ra.s 
By  Goddes  saule  he  shall  not  scape  us  bathe. 
Why  ne  had  thou  put  the  capel6  in  the  lathe  V 


1  The  story  alluded  to  Is  told  of  a  mule  in  Cent.  Nov.  Ant.  N.  91.  The 
Mule  pretends  that  his  name  is  written  upon  the  bottom  of  his  hind-foot. 
The  Wolf  attempting  to  read  it,  the  Mule  gives  him  a  kick  on  the  fore- 
head and  kills  him.  Upon  which  the  Fox,  who  was  present,  observes, 
Ogni  huomo,  che  la  lettera,  non  e  sario.  There  is  a  similar  story  of  a  Wolf 
and  a  Mare  in  the  most  delectable  History  of  Reynard  the  Fox.  Edit.  1701. 
Ch.  xviii. — Tyrwhitt. 

2  A  leafy  seat,  or  arbour. 

3  A  word  to  express  the  neighing  of  a  horse.  *  Business. 

Roe  deer.  6  Horse.  1  Barn. 


4087-4126.  THE  EEVES  TALE.  115 

111  haile,  Alein,  by  God  thou  is  a  tonne.1 
These  sely  clerkes  han  ful  fast  yronne 
Toward  the  fen,  both  Alein  and  eke  John : 
And  whan  the  miller  saw  that  they  were  gon, 
He  half  a  bushel  of  hir  .flour  hath  take, 
And  bad  his  wif  go  knede  it  in  a  cake. 
He  sayd ;  I  trow,  the  clerkes  were  aferde. 
Yet  can  a  miller  make  a  clerkes  berde,2 
For  all  his  art.    Ye,  let  hem  gon  hir  way. 
Lo  wher  they  gon.    Ye,  let  the  children  play : 
They  get  him  not  so  lightly  by  my  croun. 

These  sely  clerkes  rennen  up  and  doun 
With  kepe,  kepe  ;  stand,  stand  ;  jossa,  warderere.8 
Ga  whistle  thou,  and  I  shall  kepe  him  here. 
But  shortly,  til  that  it  was  veray  night 
They  coude  uot,  though  they  did  all  hir  might, 
Hir  capel  catch,  he  ran  alway  so  fast : 
Til  in  a  diche  they  caught  him  at  the  last. 

Wery  and  wet,  as  bestes  in  the  rain, 
Cometh  sely  John,  and  with  him  cometh  Alein. 
Alas  (quod  John)  the  day  that  I  was  borne ! 
Now  are  we  driven  till  hething'  and  til  scorne. 
Our  corn  is  stolne,  men  wol  us  fonnes  calle, 
Both  the  wardein,  and  eke  our  felawes  alle, 
And  namely  the  miller,  wala  wa ! 

Thus  plaineth5  John,  as  he  goth  by  the  way 
Toward  the  mille,  and  bayard0  in  his  hond. 
The  miller  sitting  by  the  fire  he  fond, 
For  it  was  night,  and  forther  might  they  nought, 
But  for  the  love  of  God  they  him  besought 
Of  herberwe7  and  of  ese,8  as  for  hir  peny. 

The  miller  said  agen,  if  ther  be  any, 
Swiche  as  it  is,  yet  shull  ye  have  your  part. 
Myn  hous  is  streit,  but  ye  have  lerned  art ; 
Ye  can  by  arguments  maken  a  place 
A  mile  brode,  of  twenty  foot  of  space. 
Let  see  now  if  this  place  may  suffice. 
Or  make  it  roume9  with  speche,  as  is  your  gise. 
Now,  Simond,  (said  this  John)  by  Seint  Cuthberd 
Ay  is  thou  mery,  and  that  is  faire  answerd. 

1  Fool.  3  /.  <,.,  make  a  fool  of  him. 

3  Perhaps  a  corruption  of  trie  French,  "  Garde  arriSre." — Tyrwhitt. 
*  Contempt.  5  Lamenteth.  6  Horse. 

7  Lodging.  8  Rest.  f  Spacious. 


116  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  4127-4166. 

I  have  herd  say,  man  sal  take  of  twa  thinges, 

Slike  as  he  findes,  or  slike  as  he  bringes. 

But  specially  I  pray  thee,  hoste  dere, 

Gar1  us-  have  mete  and  drink e,  and  make  us  chere, 

And  we  sal  paien  trewely  at  the  full : 

With  empty  hand,  men  may  na  haukes  tull.2 

Lo  here  our  silver  redy  for  to  spend. 

This  miller  to  the  toun  his  doughter  send 
For  ale  and  bred,  and  rosted  hem  a  goos, 
And  bond  hir  hors,  he  shuld  no  more  go  loos: 
And  in  his  owen  chambre  hem  made  a  bedde, 
With  shetes  and  with  chalons3  faire  yspredde, 
Nat  from  his  owen  bed  ten  foot  or  twelve: 
His  doughter  had  a  bed  all  by  hireselve, 
Eight  in  the  same  chambre  by  and  by : 
It  mighte  be  no  bet,  and  cause  why, 
Ther  was  no  roumer  herberwe  in  the  place. 
They  soupen,  and  they  speken  ol  solace, 
And  drinken  ever  strong  ale  at  the  best. 
Abouten  midnight  wente  they  to  rest. 

Wei  hath  this  miller  vernished  his  hed, 
Ful  pale  he  was,  for-dronken,  and  nought  red. 
He  yoxeth,4  and  he  speketh  thurgh  the  nose, 
As  he  were  on  the  quakke,  or  on  the  pose.5 
To  bed  he  goth,  and  with  him  goth  his  wif ; 
As  any  jay  she  light  was  and  jolif, 
So  was  hire  joly  whistle  wel  ywette. 
The  cradel  at  hire  beddes  feet  was  sette, 
To  rocken,  and  to  yeve  the  child  to  souke. 
And  whan  that  drpnken  was  all  in  the  crouke6 
To  bedde  went  the  doughter  right  anon, 
To  bedde  goth  Alein,  and  also  John. 
Ther  n'as  no  more ;  nedeth  hem  no  dwale.7 
This  miller  hath  so  wisly8  bibbed  ale, 
That  as  an  hors  he  snorteth  in  his  slepe, 
Ne  of  his  tail  behind  he  toke  no  kepe. 
His  wif  bare  him  a  burdon  a  ful  strong; 
Men  might  hir  routing  heren  a  furlong. 
The  wenche  routeth  eke  par  compagnie. 

Alein- the  clerk  that  herd  this  melodie, 


*  Let.  3  Lure.  3  Some  coverlet  made  at  Chalons. 

*  Hiccupped.  s  As  if  he  had  an  obstruction  or  catarrh. 

8  Titcher.  'J  Sleeping-draught.  8  Thoroughly. 


4167-4206.  THE  REVES  TALE.  117 

He  poketh  John,  and  sayde:  Slepest  thou? 
Herdest  thou  ever  slike  a  song  er  now  ? 
Lo  whilke  a  complin1  is  ymelP  hem  alle. 
A  wilde  fire  upon  hir  bodies  falle, 
Wha  herkned  ever  slike  a  ferly3  thing? 
Ye,  they  shall  have  the  flour  of  yvel  ending. 
This  lange  night  ther  tides  me  no  reste. 
But  yet  na  force,  all  shal  be  for  the  beste. 
For,  John,  (sayd  he)  as  ever  mote  I  thrive, 
If  that  I  may,  yon  wenche  wol  I  swive. 
Som  esement  has  lawe  yshapen  us. 
For,  John,  ther  is  a  lawe  that  saieth  thus, 
That  if  a  man  in  o  point  be  agreved, 
That  in  another  he  shal  be  releved. 
Our  corn  is  stolne,  sothly  it  is  na  nay, 
And  we  han  had  an  yvel  fit  to-day. 
And  sin  I  shal  have  nan  amendement 
Again  my  losse,  I  wol  have  an  esement: 
By  Goddes  saule,  it  shal  nan  other  be. 

This  John  answered ;    Alein,  avise  thee: 
The  miller  is  a  perilous  man,  he  sayde. 
And  if  that  he  out  of  his  slepe  abraide, 
He  mighte  don  us  bathe  a  vilanie. 
Alein  answered ;  I  count  him  nat  a  flie 
And  up  he  rist,  and  by  the  wenche  he  crept. 
This  wenche  lay  upright,  and  fiiste  slept, 
Til  he  so  nigh  was,  er  she  might  espie, 
That  it  had  ben  to  late  for  to  crie : 
And  shortly  for  to  say,  they  were  at  on. 
Now  play,  Alein,  for  I  wol  speke  of  John. 

This  John  lith  still  a  furlong  way  or  two, 
And  to  himself  he  maketh  routh  and  wo. 
Alas!  (quod  he)  this  is  a  wicked  jape ; 
Now  may  I  say,  that  I  is  but  an  ape. 
Yet  has  my  felaw  somwhat  for  his  harme ; 
He  has  the  millers  doughter  in  his  arme : 
He  auntered4  him,  and  hath  his  nedes  spedde, 
And  I  lie  as  a  draf-sak5  in  my  bedde ; 
And  whan  this  jape  is  tald  another  day, 
I  shal  be  halden  a  daffe0  or  a  cokenay:7 

1  Singing.  2  Among.  8  Strange 

4  Art  ventured.  •  A  bag  of  rubbish.  6  Fool. 

7  That  tills  is  a  term  of  contempt,  borrowed  originally  from   the 
kitchen,  is  very  probable.    A  cook,  in  the  base  Latiuity,  was  called 


118  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  4207-4236. 

I  wol  arise,  and  auntre  it  by  my  fay: 
Unhardy  is  unsely,1  thus  men  say. 

And  up  he  rose,  and  softely  he  went 
Unto  the  cradel,  and  in  his  hand  it  hent, 
And  bare  it  soft  unto  his  beddes  fete. 
Sone  after  this  the  wif  hire  routing  lete, 
And  gan  awake,  and  went  hire  out  to  pisse, 
And  came  again,  and  gan  the  cradel  misse, 
And  groped  here  and  ther,  but  she  fond  non. 
Alas  !  (quod  she)  I  had  almost  misgon. 
I  had  almost  gon  to  the  clerkes  bedde. 
Ey  benedicite,  than  had  I  foule  yspedde. 
And  forth  she  goth,  til  she  the  cradel  fond. 
She  gropeth  alway  forther  with  hire  hond. 
And  fond  the  bed,  and  thoughte  nat  but  good, 
Because  that  the  cradel  by  it  stoed, 
And  n'iste  wher  she  was,  for  it  was  derk, 
But  faire  and  wel  she  crept  in  by  the  clerk, 
And  lith  ful  still,  and  wold  han  caught  a  slepe. 
Within  a  while  this  John  the  clerk  up  lepe, 
And  on  this  goode  wif  he  laieth  on  sore ; 
So  mery  a  fit  ne  had  she  nat  ful  yore. 
He  priketh  hard  and  depe,  as  he  were  mad. 

This  joly  lif  han  these  two  clerkes  lad, 
Til  that  the  thridde  cok  began  to  sing. 
Alein  wex  werie  in  the  morwening, 
For  he  had  swonken  all  the  longe  night, 
And  sayd ;  Farewel,  Malkin,  my  swete  wight. 
The  day  is  come,  I  may  no  longer  bide, 
But  evermo,  wher  so  I  go  or  ride, 

Coquinator,  and  Coquinarius,  from  either  of  which  Cokenay  might  easily 
be  derived.    In  pp.  fol.  xxxv.  6. 

And  yet  I  say  by  my  soule  I  have  no  salt  bacon 
Ne  no  Cokeney  by  Christe  coloppes  to  make. 
It  seems  to  signify  a  Cook. — In  those  rhymes  ascribed  to  Hngh  Bigot, 
which  Camden  has  published,  Brit.  Col.  451  (upon  what  authority  I 
know  not.) 

"  Were  I  in  my  castle  of  Bungey 
Upon  the  river  of  Waveney, 
I  would  ne  care  for  the  King  of  Cockeney." 
The  author,  in  calling  London  Cockeney,  might  possibly  allude  to  that 
imaginary  country  of  Idleness  and  Luxury,  which  was  anciently  known 
by  the  name  of  "  Cokaigne,"  or  Cocagne,  a  name  which  Hickes  has  shewn 
to  be  derived  from  Coquina. — Tyrwhitt. 

i Unhappy. 


4237-4280.  THE  REVES  TALE.  119 

I  is  thin  awen  clerk,  so  have  I  hele.1 

Now,  dere  lemman,  quod  she,  go  farewele : 

But  or  thou  go,  o  thing  I  wol  thee  tell. 

Whan  that  thou  wendest  homeward  by  the  mell, 

Eight  at  the  entree  of  the  dore  behind 

Thou  shalt  a  cake  of  half  a  bushel  find, 

That  was  ymaked  of  thin  owen  mele, 

Which  that  I  halpe  my  fader  for  to  stele. 

And  goode  lemman,  God  thee  save  and  kepe. 

And  with  that  word  she  gan  almost  to  wepe. 

Alein  uprist  and  thought,  er  that  it  daw 
I  wol  go  crepen  in  by  my  felaw : 
And  fond  the  cradel  at  his  hand  anon. 
By  God,  thought  he,  all  wrang  I  have  misgon: 
My  hed  is  tottie  of  my  swink  to  night, 
That  maketh  me  that  I  go  nat  aright. 
I  wot  wel  by  the  cradel  1  have  misgo ; 
Here  Uth  the  miller  and  his  wif  also. 
And  forth  he  goth  a  twenty  divel  way  * 

Unto  the  bed,  ther  as  the  miller  lay. 
He  wend  have  cropen*  by  his  felaw  John, 
And  by  the  miller  in  he  crept  anon, 
And  caught  him  by  the  nekke,  and  gan  him  shake, 
And  sayd  ;  Thou  John,  thou  swineshed  awake 
For  Cristes  saule,  and  here  a  noble  game: 
For  by  that  lord  that  called  is  Seint  Jame, 
As3  I  have  thries  as  in  this  short  night 
Swived  the  millers  doughter  bolt-upright, 
While  thou  hast  as  a  coward  ben  agast. 

Ye,  false  harlot,  quod  the  miller,  hast? 
A,  false  traitour,  false  clerk,  (quod  he) 
Thou  shalt  be  ded  by  Goddes  dignitee, 
Who  dorste  be  so  bold  to  disparage 
My  doughter,  that  is  come  of  swiche  linage. 
And  by  the  throte-bolle  he  caught  Alein, 
And  he  him  hent  despitously  again, 
And  on  the  nose  he  smote  him  with  his  fist; 
Doun  ran  the  blody  streme  upon  his  brest: 
And  in  the  flore  with  nose  and  mouth  to-broke 
They  walwe,4  as  don  two  pigges  in  a  poke. 
And  up  they  gon,  and  doun  again  anon, 
Til  that  the  miller  sporned  at  a  ston, 
And  doun  he  fell  backward  upon  his  wif, 
That  wiste  nothing  of  this  nice  strif : 
1  Salvation.        2  Would  have  crept.  3  So.  *  Wallowed. 


120  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  4281-4322. 

For  she  was  fall  aslepe  a  litel  wight 
With  John  the  clerk,  that  waked  had  all  night: 
And  with  the  fall  out  of  hire  slepe  she  braide. 
Helpe,  holy  crois  of  Bromeholnie,  (she  sayde) 
In  manus  tuas,  Lord,  to  thee  I  call. 
Awake,  Simond,  the  fend  is  on  me  fall; 
Myn  herte  is  broken ;  helpe ;  I  n'ara  but  ded ; 
Ther  lith  on  up  my  wombe  and  up  myn  hed. 
Helpe,  Simkin,  for  the  false  clerkes  fight. 
This  John  stert  up  as  fast  as  ever  he  might, 
And  graspeth  by  the  walles  to  and  fro 
To  find  a  staf,  and  she  stert  up  also, 
And  knew  the  estres1  bet  than  did  this  John, 
And  by  the  wall  she  toke  a  staf  anon; 
And  saw  a  litel  shemering  of  a  light, 
For  at  an  hole  in  shone  the  mone  bright, 
And  by  that  light  she  saw  hem  bothe  two, 
But  sikerly  she  n'iste  who  was  who, 
But  as  she  saw  a  white  thing  in  hire  eye. 
And  whan  she  gan  this  white  thing  espie, 
She  wend  the  clerk  had  wered  a  volupere  f 
And  with  the  staf  she  drow  ay  nere  and  nere, 
And  wend  han  hit  this  Alein  atte  full, 
And  smote  the  miller  on  the  pilled  skull, 
That  doun  he  goth,  and  cried,  harow !  I  die 
Thise  clerkes  bete  him  wel,  and  let  him  he, 
And  greithen3  hem,  and  take  hir  hors  anon, 
And  eke  hir  mele,  and  on  hir  way  they  gon : 
And  at  the  mille  dore  eke  they  toke  hir  cake 
Of  half  a  bushel  flour,  ful  wel  ybake. 

Thus  is  the  proude  miller  wel  ybete, 
And  hath  ylost  the  grinding  of  the  whete, 
And  paied  for  the  souper  every  del 
Of  Alein  and  of  John,  that  bete  him  wel; 
His  wif  is  swived,  and  his  daughter  als; 
Lo,  swiche  it  is  a  miller  to  be  fals. 
And  therfore  this  proverbe  is  sayd  ful  soth, 
Him  thar4  not  winnen  wel  that  evil  doth ; 
A  gilour5  shal  himself  begiled  be : 
And  God  that  siteth  hie  in  magestee 
Save  all  thus  compagnie,  gret  and  smale. 
Thus  have  I  quit  the  miller  in  my  tale. 

*  The  inner  premises.  s  Night-cap.  8  Prepared. 

*  He  shall  not ;  it  behoTeth  not  that  he  win.  6  A  deceiver. 


121 


THE  COKES  PROLOGUE. 

4323-4351. 

The  Coke  of  London,  while  the  Reve  spalce, 

For  joye  (him  thought)  he  clawed  him  on  the  bak 

A  ha  (quod  he)  for  Cristes  passion, 

Thia  miller  had  a  sharp  conclusion, 

Upon  this  argument  of  herbergage. 

Wei  sayde  Salomon  in  his  langage, 

Ne  bring  not  every  man  into  thin  hous, 

For  herberwing1  by  night  is  perilous. 

Wei  ought  a  man  avised  for  to  be 

Whom  that  he  brought  into  his  privetee. 

I  pray  to  God  so  yeve  me  sorwe  and  care, 

If  ever,  sithen  I  highte  Hodge  of  Ware, 

Herd  I  a  miller  bet2  ysette  a-werk ; 

He  had  a  jape  of  malice  in  the  derk. 

But  God  forbede  that  we  stinten  here, 
And  therfore  if  ye  vouchen  sauf3  to  here 
A  tale  of  me  that  am  a  poure  man, 
I  wol  you  tell  as  wel  as  ever  I  can 
A  litel  jape  that  fell  in  our  citee. 

Our  hoste  answerd  and  sayde;  I  grant  it  thee: 
Now  tell  on,  Eoger,  and  loke  that  it  be  good, 
For  many  a  pastee  hast  thou  letten  blood, 
And  many  a  Jacke  of  Dover  hast  thou  sold, 
That  hath  been  ^wies  hot  and  twies  cold. 
Of  many  a  pilgrim  hast  thou  Cristes  curse, 
For  of  thy  perselee^  yet  fare  they  the  werse, 
That  they  han  eten  in  thy  stoble  goos  :5 
For  in  thy  shop  goth  many  a  flie  loos. 
Now  tell  on,  gentil  Roger  by  thy  name, 
But  yet  I  pray  thee  be  not  wroth  for  game ; 
A  man  may  say  ful  soth,  in  game  and  play, 
Thou  sayst  full  soth,  quod  Roger,  by  my  fay; 

»  Housing.  «  Better.  3  If  ye  are  willing.  *  Parsley. 

6  A  goose  feed  in  a  etubble-field, ».«.,  a  lean,  meagre  goose. 

II 


122  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  4355-4386. 

But  soth  play  quade  spel,1  as  the  Fleming  saith, 
And  therfbre,  Herry  Bailly,  by  thy  faith, 
Be  thou  not  wroth,  or  we  departen  here, 
Though  that  my  tale  be  of  an  hosteler©. 
But  natheles,  I  wol  not  telle  it  yet, 
But  er  we  part,  ywis  thou  shalt  be  quit. 
And  therewithal  he  lough  and  made  chere, 
And  sayd  his  tale,  as  ye  shul  after  here. 


St*  Cfffc*s  Salt 


A  prentis  whilom  dwelt  in  our  citee, 
And  of  a  craft  of  vitaillers  was  he : 
Gaillard*  he  was,  as  goldfinch -in  the  shawe,3 
Broune  as  a  bery,  a  propre  short  felawe : 
With  lokkes  blake,  kembed  ful  fetisly. 
Dancen  he  coude  so  wel  and  jolily, 
That  he  was  cleped  Perkin  Bevelour. 
He  was  as  ful  of  love  and  paramour, 
As  is  the  hive  ful  of  hony  swete ; 
"Wel  was  the  wenche  with  him  mighte  mete. 

At  every  bridale  would  he  sing  and  hoppe  ; 
He  loved  bet  the  taverne  than  the  shoppe. 
For  whan  ther  any  riding4  was  in  Chepe, 
Out  of  the  shoppe  thider  wold  he  lepe, 
And  til  that  he  had  all  the  sight  ysein, 
And  danced  wel,  he  wold  not  come  agein; 
And  gadred  him  a  meinie5  of  his  sort, 
To  hoppe  and  sing,  and  maken  swiche  disport: 
And  ther  they  setten  steven6  for  to  mete 
To  plaien  at  the  dis  in  swiche  a  strete. 
For  in  the  toun  ne  was  ther  no  prentis, 
That  fairer  coude  caste  a  pair  of  dis 
Than  Perkin  coude,  and  therto  he  was  fre 
Of  his  dispence,  in  place  of  privetee.7 

True  play  is  bad  play.  -  Qay.  3  Shade,  grovt 

Either  jousting,  or  any  public  procession. 

A  troop  of  mischievous  fellows.— See  Tyruhitt'i  gl. 

They  appointed.  7  Private  business. 


4387-4420.  THE  COKES  TALE.  123 

That  fond1  his  maister  wel  in  his  chaffare,* 
For  often  time  he  fond  his  box  ful  bare. 

For  sothly,  a  prentis,  a  revelour, 
That  hanteth3  dis,  riot  and  paramour, 
His  maister  shal  it  in  his  shoppe  abie  * 
Al  have  he  no  part  of  the  minstralcie. 
For  theft  and  riot  they  ben  convertible, 
Al  can  they  play  on  giterne  or  ribible. 
Kevel  and  trouth,  as  in  a  low  degree, 
They  ben  ful  wroth  all  day,  as  men  may  see. 

This  joly  prentis  with  his  maister  abode, 
Til  he  was  neigh  out  of  his  prentishode, 
Al  were  he  snibbed  bothe  erly  and  late, 
And  somtime  lad  with  revel  to  Newgate. 
But  at  the  last  his  maister  him  bethought 
Upon  a  day,  whan  he  his  paper  sought, 
Of  a  proverbe,  that  saith  this  same  word; 
Wel  bet  is  roten  appel  out  of  hord, 
Than  that  it  rote  alle  the  remenant; 
So  fareth  it  by  a  riotous  servant; 
It  is  well  lasse  harm  to  let  him  pace,5 
Than  he  shende6  all  the  servants  in  the  place. 
Therfore  his  maister  yaf  him  a  quitance, 
And  bad  him  go,  with  sorwe  and  with  meschance. 
And  thus  this  joly  prentis  had  his  leve  : 
Now  let  him  riot  all  the  night  or  leve. 

And  for  ther  n'is  no  thefe  without  a  louke,7 
That  helpeth  him  to  wasten  and  to  souke 
Of  that  he  briben8  can,  or  borwe  may, 
Anon  he  sent  his  bed  and  his  array 
Unto  a  compere  of  his  owen  sort, 
That  loved  dis,  and  riot,  and  disport; 
And  had  a  wif,  that  held  for  contenance 

A  shoppe,  and  swived  for  hire  sustenance. 

«        *        *        *         •         ••• 

i  Found.  *  Traffic,  merchandise.  8  Haunteth,  is  given  to» 

«  Suffer  for  it  in  the  "  till£  *  Ga  6  Bain. 

1  A  receiver.  •  Steal. 


124 


THE  MAN  OF  LAWES  PROLOGUE. 


4421-4454. 

Ottr  hoste  saw  wel,  that  the  brighte  sonne 

The  ark  of  his  artificial  day  had  ronne 

The  fourthe  part,  and  half  an  houre  and  more; 

And  though  he  were  not  depe  expert  in  lore, 

He  wiste  it  was  the  eighte  and  twenty  day 

Of  April,  that  is  messager  to  May ; 

And  saw  wel  that  the  shadow  of  every  tree 

"Was  as  in  lengthe  of  the  same  quantitee 

That  was  the  body  erect,  that  caused  it ; 

And  therfore  by  the  shadow  he  toke  his  wit, 

That  Phebus,  which  that  shone  so  clere  and  bright 

Degrees  was  five  and  fourty  clombe  on  hight; 

And  for  that  day,  as  in  that  latitude, 

It  was  ten  oi  the  clok,  he  gan  conclude ; 

And  sodenly  he  plight  his  hors  aboute. 

Lordings,  quod  he,  I  warne  you  all  this  route,1 
The  fourthe  partie  of  this  day  is  gon. 
Now  for  the  love  of  God  and  of  Seint  John 
Leseth  no  time,  as  ferforth  as  ye  may. 
Lordings,  the  time  it  wasteth  night  and  day, 
And  steleth  from  us,  what  prively  sleping, 
And  what  thurgh  negligence  in  our  waking, 
As  doth  the  streme,  that  turneth  never  again, 
Descending  fro  the  montagne  into  a  plain. 
Wel  can  Senek  and  many  a  philosophre 
Bewailen  time,  more  than  gold  in  coffre. 
For  losse  of  catel  may  recovered  be, 
But  losse  of  time  shendeth  us,  quod  he. 
It  wol  not  come  again  withouten  drede, 
No  more  than  wol  Malkins  maidenhede* 
Whan  she  hath  lost  it  in  hire  wantonnesse. 
Let  us  not  moulen3  thus  in  idlenesse. 

Sire  man  of  Lawe,  quod  he,  so  have  ye  blis, 
Tell  us  a  tale  anon,  as  forword  is.4 

1  Party.  s  A  common  proverb. 

*  Grow  mouldy.  %  *  As  is  stipulated- 


4455-4480.      THE  MAN  OP  LAWES  PROLOGUE.  125 

Ye  ben  submitted  thurgh  your  free  assent 
To  stonde  in  this  cas  at  my  jugement. 
Acquiteth  you  now,  and  holdeth  your  behest; 
Than  have  ye  don  your  devoir  at  the  lest. 
Hoste,  quod  he,  depar  dieuxjeo  assent^ 
To  breken  forword  is  not  min  entente. 
Behest  is  dette,  and  I  wold  hold  it  fayn 
All  my  behest,  I  can  no  better  sayn. 
For  swiche  lawe  as  man  yeveth  another  wight* 
He  shuld  himselven  usen  it  by  right. 
Thus  wol  our  text :  but  natheles  certain 
I  can  right  now  no  thrifty  tale  sain, 
But  Chaucer  (though  he  can  but  lewedly1 
On  metres  and  on  riming  craftily) 
Hath  sayd  hem,  in  swiche  English  as  he  can, 
Of  olde  time,  as  knoweth  many  a  man. 
And  it  he  have  not  sayd  hem,  leve  brother, 
In  o  book,  he  hath  sayd  hem  in  another. 
For  he  hath  told  of  lovers  up  and  doun, 
Mo  than  Ovide  made  of  mentioun 
In  his  Epistolis,  than  ben  ful  olde. 
What  shuld  I  tellen  hem,  sin  they  ben  toldef 
In  youthe  he  made  of  Ceys2  and  Alcyon, 
And  sithen  hath  he  spoke  ot  everich  on 
Thise  noble  wives,  and  thise  lovers  eke. 
Who  so  that  wol  his  large  volume  sek© 

1  Ignorantly. 
*  The  story  of  Ceyx  and  Alcyone  is  related  in  the  introduction  to  the 
poem,  which  was  for  some  time  called  "  the  Dreme  of  Chaucer,"  but  which, 
in  the  MSS.  Fairf.  16.  and  Bod.  638.  is  more  properly  entitled  "the 
booke  of  the  Duchette."  The  following  note,  which  has  been  prefixed  to 
it  in  all  the  later  editions,  is  in  MS.  Fairf.  in  the  handwriting  oi  John 
Stowe.  ■*  By  the  person  of  a  mourning  Knight  sitting  under  an  oke  it 
meant  John  of  Gaunt,  Duke  of  Lancaster,  greatly  lamenting  the  death  of  one 
whom  hee  entirely  loved,  supposed  to  be  Blanche  the  Duchesse."  I  believe 
John  is  very  right  in  his  conjecture.  Chaucer  himself,  in  his  Leg.  of  G.  W. 
418.  says,  that  he  made  "  the  deth  of  Blaunche  the  Duchesse:"  and  in  the 
poem  now  under  consideration  he  plainly  alludes  to  her  name,  vcr.  948. 

"  And  faire  white  she  hete ; 
That  was  my  ladys  name  right." 
On  the  other  hand,  the  knight  is  represented,  ver.  455,  6, 

•*  Of  the  age  of  four  and  twenty  yere, 
Upon  his  berde  but  litel  here" — 
whereas  John  of  Gaunt,  at  the  death  of  Blanche  in  1369,  was  about  nine 
and  twenty  years  of  age.  But  this  perhaps  was  a  designed  misrepresenta- 
tion.— Tyrtehitt.  jj* 


126  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  4481-4512. 

Cleped  the  seintes  legende  of  Cupide  i1 

Ther  may  he  se  the  large  woundes  wide 

Of  Lucrece,  and  of  Babylon  Thisbe  ; 

The  swerd  of  Dido  for  the  false  Enee; 

The  tree  of  Phillis  for  hire  Demophon; 

The  plaint  of  Deianire,  and  Hermion, 

Of  Adriane,  and  Ysiphilee ; 

The  barreine  ile2  stonding  in  the  see; 

The  dreint3  Leandre  for  his  fayre  Hero; 

The  teres  of  Heleine,  and  eke  the  wo 

Of  Briseide,  and  of  Ladomia ; 

The  crueltee  of  thee,  quene  Medea, 

Thy  litel  children  hanging  by  the  hals,4 

For  thy  Jason,  that  was  of  love  so  fals. 

O  Hipermestra,  Penelope,  Alceste, 

Your  wifhood  he  commendeth  with  the  beste. 

But  certainly  no  word  ne  writeth  he 
Of  thilke  wicke  ensample  oi  Canace, 
That  loved  hire  owen  brother  sinfully ; 
(Of  all  swiche  cursed  stories  I  say  fy) 
Or  elles  of  Tyrius  Appolonius, 
How  that  the  cursed  king  Antiochus 
Beraft  his  doughter  of  hire  maidenhede, 
That  is  so  horrible  a  tale  for  to  rede, 
Whan  he  hire  threw  upon  the  pavement. 
And  therfore  he  of  ful  avisement 
N'old  never  write  in  non  of  his  sermons 
Of  swiche  unkinde  abhominations ; 
Ne  I  wol  non  reherse,  if  that  I  may. 
But  of  my  tale  how  shal  I  don  this  day  ? 
Me  were  loth  to  be  likened  douteles 
To  Muses,  that  men  clepe  Pierides,5 

1  In  the  Editt.  it  is  called  the  Legende  of  good  women;  in  MS.  Fairf. 
16.  the  Legendit  of  ix  gode  women.  According  to  Lydgate,  Frol.  to 
Boccace,  the  number  was  to  have  been  nineteen;  and  perhaps  the 
Legende  itself  affords  some  ground  for  this  notion.  See  ver.  183.  and 
C.L.  ver.  108.  But  this  number  was  probably  never  completed,  and  the 
last  story  of  Hypermnestra  is  seemingly  unfinished. 

In  an  imperfect  copy  of  the  Matter  of  the  Game,  dedicated  to  Henry, 
eldest  son  of  Henry  IV.  (MS.  Harl.  6824.)  is  the  following  passage.  "  As 
Chaucer  seithe  in  his  prolog,  of  xxv.  good  wymmen,  by  writing  have  men 
mynde  of  thynges  passed." — See  ver.  18.  Tynchitt. 

2  /.  e.,  Sestos,  where  Hero  dwelt.  3  Drowned. 

*  The  neck.  Bat  the  classical  legends  generally  represent  them  as 
slain  by  the  sword. 

*  This  seems  rather  to  refer  to  the  daughters  of  Fierus,  changed  into 
pies,  for  contending  with  the  muses. 


4513-4539.      THE  MAN  OP  LAWES  PROLOGUE.  127 

(Metamorphoseos1  wote  that  I  mene) 
But  natheles  I  recche2  not  a  bene, 
Though  I  come  after  him  with  hawebake,* 
I  speke  in  prose,  and  let  him  rimes  make. 
And  with  that  word,  he  with  a  sobre  chero 
Began  his  tale,  and  sayde,  as  ye  shull  here. 


8|i  Itan  of  % mn  Silt 

O  scathful  harm,  condition  of  poverte, 

With  thirst,  with  cold,  with  hunger  so  confounded, 

To  asken  helpe  thee  shameth  in  thin  herte, 

If  thou  non  ask,  so  sore  art  thou  ywounded, 

That  veray  nede  unwrappeth  al  thy  wound  hid. 

Maugre  thin  hed  thou  must  for  indigence 

Or  stele,  or  begge,  or  borwe  thy  dispeuce. 

Thou  blamest  Crist,  and  sayst  ful  bitterlyj 
He  misdeparteth4  richesse  temporal ; 
Thy  neighebour  thou  witest5  sinfully, 
And  sayst,  thou  hast  a  litel,  and  he  hath  all: 
Parfay*  (sayst  thou)  somtime  he  reken  shall, 
Whan  that  his  tayl  shal  brennen  in  the  glede,7 
For  he  nought  helpe th  needful  in  hir  nede. 

Herken  what  is  the  sentence  of  the  wise, 
Bet  is  to  dien  than  have  indigence. 
Thy  selve  neighebour  wol  thee  despise, 
If  thou  be  poure,  farewel  thy  reverence. 
Yet  of  the  wise  man  take  this  sentence, 
Alle  the  dayes  of  poure  men  ben  wicke, 
Beware  therfore  or  thou  come  to  that  pricke. 

1  /.  e„  Ovid,  Met.  1.  v.    We  may  observe  that  Chaucer  uses  classical 
genitive  cases  as  nominatives. — So  F.neados,  Judicum,  etc. 
2  Care. 

3  Neither  the  reading,  nor  the  meaning  of  this  word  can  be  deter, 
mined. 

«  HI  divideth.  «  Blamest.  6  By  my  faith.  7  Fire. 


128  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  4540-4577' 

If  thou  be  poure,  thy  brother  hateth  thee, 
And  all  thy  frendes  fleen  fro  thee,  alas ! 
O  riche  marchants,  ful  of  wele  ben  ye, 

0  noble,  o  prudent  folk,  as  in  this  cas, 
Your  bagges  ben  not  filled  with  ambes  as,1 

But  with  sis2  cink,  that  renneth  for  your  chance » 
At  Cristenmasse  mery  may  ye  dance. 

Ye  seken  lond  and  see  for  your  winninges, 
As  wise  folk  ye  knowen  all  th'  estat 
Of  regnes,  ye  ben  fathers  of  tidinges, 
And  tales,  both  of  pees  and  of  debat: 

1  were  right  now  of  tales  desolat, 

N'  ere  that  a  marchant,  gon  in  many  a  yere, 
Me  taught  a  tale,  which  that  ye  shull  here. 

In  Surrie3  whilom  dwelt  a  compagnie 
Of  chapmen  rich,  and  therto  sad4  and  trewe, 
That  wide  where  senten  hir  spicerie, 
Clothes  of  gold,  and  satins  riche  of  hewe. 
Hir  chaffare5  was  so  thriftly  and  so  newe, 
That  every  wight  hath  deintee6  to  chaffare 
With  hem,  and  eke  to  sellen  hem  hir  ware. 

Now  fell  it,  that  the  maisters  of  that  sort 
Han  shapen  hem  to  Eome  for  to  wende, 
Were  it  for  chapmanhood  or  for  disport, 
Non  other  message  wold  they  thider  sende, 
But  comen  hemself  to  Borne,  this  is  the  ende : 
And  in  swiche  place  as  thought  hem  avantage 
For  hir  entente,  they  taken  hir  herbergage. 

Sojourned  han  these  marchants  in  that  toun 
A  certain  time,  as  fell  to  hir  plesance : 
And  so  befell,  that  the  excellent  renoun 
Of  the  emperoures  doughter  dame  Custance 
Beported  was,  with  every  circumstance, 
Unto  these  Surrien  marchants,  in  swiche  wise 
Fro  day  to  day,  as  I  shal  you  devise, 

This  was  the  commun  vois  of  every  man: 
Our  emperour  of  Bome,  God  him  se,7 
A  doughter  hath,  that  sin  the  world  began, 

1  Two  aces,  at  dice.  2  Six. 

8  Syria.  *  Serious.  6  Merchandise. 

8  Values  highly.  '  /.  e.  preserve. 


4578-4616.  THE  MAN  OP  LAWES  TALE.  129 

To  reken  as  wel  hire  goodnesse  as  beaute, 
N'  as  never  swiche  another  as  is  she : 
I  pray  to  God  in  honour  hire  sustene, 
And  wold  she  were  of  all  Europe  the  quene. 

In  hire  is  high  beaute  withouten  pride, 
Youthe,  withouten  grenehed  or  folie : 
To  all  hire  werkes  vertue  is  hire  guide ; 
Humblesse  hath  slaien  in  hire  tyrannie: 
She  is  mirrour  of  alle  curtesie, 
Hire  herte  is  veray  chambre  of  holinesse, 
Hire  hond  ministre  of  fredom  for  ahnesse. 

And  all  this  vois  was  soth,1  as  God  is  trewe, 
But  now  to  purpos  let  us  turne  agein. 
These  marchants  han  don  fraught  hir  shippes  newe, 
And  whan  they  han  this  blisful  maiden  sein, 
Home  to  Surrie  ben  they  went  ful  fayn, 
And  don  hir  nedes,  as  they  han  don  yore, 
And  liven  in  wele,  I  can  say  you  no  more. 

Now  fell  it,  that  these  marchants  stood  in  grace 
Of  him  that  was  the  Soudan2  of  Surrie: 
For  whan  they  came  from  any  strange  place 
He  wold  of  his  benigne  curtesie 
Make  hem  good  chere,  and  besily  espie 
Tidings  of  sundry  regnes,  for  to  lere* 
The  wonders  that  they  mighte  seen  or  here. 

Amonges  other  thinges  specially 
These  marchants  han  him  told  of  dame  Custance 
So  gret  noblesse,  in  ernest  seriously, 
That  this  Soudan  hath  caught  so  gret  plesance 
To  han  hire  figure  in  his  remembrance, 
That  all  his  lust,  and  all  his  besy  cure 
Was  for  to  love  hire,  while  his  lif  may  dure. 

Paraventure  in  thilke  large  book, 
Which  that  men  clepe  the  heven,  ywritten  was 
With  sterres,  whan  that  he  his  birthe  took, 
That  he  for  love  shuld  han  his  deth,  alas ! 
For  in  the  sterres,  clerer  than  is  glas, 
Is  writen,  God  wot,  who  so  coud  it  rede, 
The  deth  of  every  man  withouten  drede.4 
I  This  report  was  true.     .  2  Soldan.  3  Learn.  *  Doubt 


130  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  4617-465& 

In  sterres  many  a  winter  therbeforn 
Was  writ  the  deth  of  Hector,  Achilles, 
Of  Pompey,  Julius,  or  they  were  born; 
The  strif  of  Thebes ;  and  ox  Hercules, 
Of  Sampson,  Turnus,  and  of  Socrates 
The  deth;  but  mennes  wittes  ben  so  dull, 
That  no  wight  can  wel  rede  it  at  the  f  olL 

This  Soudan  for  his  prive  councel  sent, 
And  shortly  of  this  matere  for  to  pace, 
He  hath  to  hem  declared  his  entent, 
And  sayd  hem  certain,  but  he  might  have  grace 
To  han  Custance,  within  a  litel  space, 
He  n'  as  but  ded,  and  charged  hem  in  hie 
To  shapen  for  his  lif  som  remedie. 

Diverse  men,  diverse  thinges  saiden; 
They  argumentes  casten  up  and  doun ; 
Many  a  subtil  reson  forth  they  laiden; 
They  speken  of  magike,  and  abusion;1 
But  finally,  as  in  conclusion, 
They  cannot  seen  in  that  non  avantage, 
Ne  in  non  other  way,  save  mariage. 

Than  saw  they  therin  swiche  difficultee 
By  way  of  reson,  for  to  speke  all  plain, 
Because  ther  was  swiche  diversitee 
Betwene  hir  bothe  lawes,  that  they  sayn, 
They  trowen  that  no  cristen  prince  wold  fayn 
Wedden  his  child  under  our  lawe  swete, 
That  us  was  yeven  by  Mahound2  our  prophete. 

And  he  answered :  Bather  than  I  lese 
Custance,  I  wol  be  cristened  douteles: 
I  mote  ben  hires,3  I  may  non  other  chese, 
I  pray  you  hold  your  arguments  in  pees, 
Saveth  my  lif,  and  beth  not  reccheles* 
To  geten  hire  that  hath  my  lif  in  cure, 
For  in  this  wo  I  may  not  long  endure. 

"What  nedeth  greter  dilatation  ? 
I  say,  by  tretise  and  ambassatrie, 
And  by  the  popes  mediation, 
And  all  the  chirche,  and  all  the  chevalrie, 
That  in  destruction  of  Maumetrie, 
1  Impropriety.  2  Mohammed.        3  I  must  be  hers.        *  Careless. 


4657-4693.  THE  HAN  OF  LAWES  TALE.  131 

And  in  encrese  of  Cristea  lawe  dere, 
They  ben  accorded  so  as  ye  may  here; 

How  that  the  Soudan  and  his  baronage, 
And  all  his  lieges  shuld  ycristened  be, 
And  he  shal  han  distance  in  manage, 
And  certain  gold,  I  n'ot  what  quantitee, 
And  hereto  finden  suffisant  suretee. 
The  same  accord  is  sworne  on  eyther  side ; 
Now,  fair  distance,  almighty  God  thee  gide. 

Now  wolden  som  men  waiten,  as  I  gesse, 
That  I  shuld  tellen  all  the  purveiance, 
The  which  that  the  emperour  of  his  noblesse 
Hath  shapen  for  his  doughter  dame  Custance. 
Wei  may  men  know  that  so  gret  ordinance 
May  no  man  tellen  in  a  litel  clause, 
As  was  arraied  for  so  high  a  cause. 

Bishopes  ben  shapen  with  hire  for  to  wende, 
Lordes,  ladies,  and  knightes  of  renoun, 
And  other  folk  ynow,  this  is  the  end. 
And  notified  is  thurghout  al  the  toun, 
That  every  wight  with  gret  devotioun 
Shuld  prayen  Crist,  that  he  this  manage 
Receive  in  gree,  and  spede  this  viage.1 

The  day  is  comen  of  hire  departing, 
I  say  the  woful  day  fatal  is  come, 
That  ther  may  be  no  longer  tarying, 
But  forward  they  hem  dressen  all  and  some. 
Custance,  that  was  with  sorwe  all  overcome, 
Ful  pale  arist,3  and  dresseth  hire  to  wende, 
For  wel  she  seth  ther  n'is  non  other  ende. 

Alas!  what  wonder  is  it  though  she  weptt 
That  shal  be  sent  to  straunge  nation 
Fro  frendes,  that  so  tendrely  hire  kept, 
And  to  be  bounde  under  subjection 
Of  on,  she  knoweth  not  his  condition. 
Housbondes  ben  all  good,  and  han  ben  yore, 
That  knowen  wives,  I  dare  say  no  more. 

'  Expedition.  3  Arose. 


132  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  4694r-4728L 

Fader,  (she  said)  thy  wretched  child  distance, 
Thy  yonge  doughter,  fostered  up  so  soft, 
And  ye,  my  model',  my  soveraine  plesance 
Over  all  thing,  (out  taken  Crist  on  loft/ 
Custance  your  child  hire  recommendeth  oft 
Unto  your  grace ;  for  I  shal  to  Surrie, 
Ne  shal  I  never  seen  you  more  with  eye. 

Alas !  unto  the  Barbare  nation 
I  muste  gon,  sin  that  it  is  your  will : 
But  Crist,  that  starfe2  for  our  redemption, 
So  yeve  me  grace  his  hestes3  to  fulfill, 
I  wretched  woman  no  force  though  I  spill  ;4 
Women  am  borne  to  thraldom  and  penance, 
And  to  ben  under  marines  governance. 

I  trow  at  Troye  whan  Pirrus  brake  the  wall, 
Or  Ilion  brent,  or  Thebes  the  citee, 
Ne  at  Borne  tor  the  harm  thurgh  Hanniball, 
That  Romans  hath  venqueshed  times  three, 
N'as  herd  swiche  tendre  weping  for  pitee, 
As  in  the  chambre  was  for  hire  parting, 
But  forth  she  mote,6  wheder  she  wepe  or  sing. 

O  firste  moving  cruel  firmament, 
With  thy  diurnal  swegh  that  croudest6  ay, 
And  hurtlest7  all  from  Est  til  Occident,8 
That  naturally  wold  hold  another  way ; 
Thy  crouding  set  the  heven  in  swiche  array 
At  the  beginning  ot  this  fierce  viage, 
That  cruel  Mars  hath  slain  this  marriage. 

Infortunat  ascendent  tortuous, 
Of  which  the  lord  is  helpeles  fall,  alas! 
Out  of  his  angle  into  the  derkest  hous. 
O  Mars,  o  Atyzar,9  as  in  this  cas; 
O  feble  Mone,10  unhappy  ben  thy  pas, 
Thou  knittest  thee  ther  thou  art  not  received, 
Ther  thou  were  wel  fro  thennes  art  thou  weived.11 

*  Save  only  Christ  on  high.  '-  Died. 

.3  Behest.  4  Perish.  6  Must  go. 

•  Dost  push  together.  7  Drivest.  8  From  east  to  west. 

9  Probably  "  burning,"  "  destructive ;"  but  the  interpretation  of  these 
barbarous  astrological  terms  is  of  little  consequence. 

10  Moon.  U  Departed. 


4729-4763.  THE  MAN  OP  LAWES  TALE.  133 

Imprudent  emperour  of  Rome,  alas ! 
Was  ther  no  philosophre  in  al  thy  toun? 
Is  no  time  bet1  than  other  in  swiche  cas? 
Of  viage  is  ther  non  electioun, 
Namely  to  folk  of  high  conditioun, 
Nat  whan  a  rote2  is  of  a  birth  yknowe? 
Alas!  we  ben  to  lewed,3  or  to  slow.4 

To  ship  is  brought  this  woful  faire  maid 
Solempnely  with  every  circumstance : 
Now  Jesu  Crist  be  with  you  all,  she  said. 
Ther  n'is  no  more,  but  farewel  fair  Custance. 
She  peineth  hire  to  make  good  countenance, 
And  forth  I  let  hire  sayle  in  this  manere, 
And  turne  I  wol  againe  to  my  matere. 

The  mother  of  the  Soudan,  well  of  vices, 
Espied  hath  hire  sones  pleine  entente, 
How  he  wol  lete  his  olde  sacrifices : 
And  right  anon  she  for  her  conseil  sente, 
And  they  ben  comen,  to  know  what  she  mente, 
And  whan  assembled  was  this  folk  in  fere, 
She  set  hire  doun,  and  sayd  as  ye  shul  here. 

Lordes,  (she  sayd)  ye  knowen  everich  on 
How  that  my  sone  in  point  is  for  to  letes 
The  holy  lawes  of  our  Alkaron, 
Yeven  by  Goddes  messager  Mahomete : 
But  on  avow  to  grete  God  I  hete,6 
The  lif  shal  rather  out  of  my  body  sterte, 
Than  Mahometes  lawe  out  of  myn  herte. 

What  shuld  us  tiden  of r  this  newe  lawe 
But  thraldom  to  our  bodies  and  penance. 
And  afterward  in  helle  to  ben  drawe, 
For  we  reneied8  Mahound  our  creance? 
But,  lordes,  wol  ye  maken  assurance, 
As  I  shal  say,  assenting  to  my  lore]9 
And  I  shal  make  us  sauf  for  evermore. 

'  Better. 

2  A  root,  or  radix,  is  any  certain  time  taken  at  pleasure,  from  which, 
as  an  era,  the  celestial  motions  are  to  be  computed. — Tytrhiti,g'. 

3  Ignorant.  *  Stupid. 

5  Is  on  the  point  of  abandoning.  6  Promise. 

7  Betide  us  from.  »  Denied.  *  Coun&el. 

12 


134  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  4764-4801. 

They  sworen,  and  assented  every  man 
To  live  with  hire  and  die,  and  hy  hire  stond : 
And  everich  on,  in  the  hest  wise  he  can, 
To  strengthen  hire  shal  all  his  frendes  fond. 
And  she  hath  this  emprise  ytaken  in  hond, 
Which  ye  shull  heren  that  I  shal  devise, 
And  to  hem  all  she  spake  right  in  this  wise. 

"We  shul  first  feine  us  cristendom  to  take ; 
Cold  water  shal  not  greve  us  but  a  lite : 
And  I  shal  swiche  a  feste  and  revel  make, 
That,  as  I  trow,  I  shal  the  Soudan  quite. 
For  tho  his  wif  be  cristened  never  so  white, 
She  shal  have  nede  to  wash  away  the  rede, 
Though  she  a  font  of  water  with  hire  lede. 

O  Soudannesse,  rote  of  iniquitee, 
Virago  thou  Semyramee1  the  second, 
O  serpent  under  femininitee, 
lake  to  the  serpent  depe  in  helle  ybound: 
O  feined  woman,  all  that  may  confound 
Vertue  and  innocence,  thurgh  thy  malice, 
Is  bred  in  thee,  as  nest  of  every  vice. 

O  Sathan  envious,  sin  thilke  day 
That  thou  were  chased  from  our  heritage, 
Wei  knowest  thou  to  woman  the  olde  way. 
Thou  madest  Eva  bring  us  in  servage, 
Thou  wolt  fordon2  this  cristen  mariage: 
Thin  instrument  so  (wala  wa  the  while !) 
Makest  thou  of  women  whan  thou  wolt  begile. 

This  Soudannesse,  whom  I  thus  blame  and  warrie, 
Let  prively  hire  conseil  gon  hir  way: 
What  shuld  I  in  this  tale  longer  tarie  ? 
She  rideth  to  the  Soudan  on  a  day, 
And  sayd  him,  that  she  wold  reneie  hire  lay, 
And  Christendom  of  prestes  hondes  fong,3 
Bepenting  hire  she  hethen  was  so  long. 

Beseching  him  to  don  hire  that  honour, 
That  she  might  han  the  cristen  folk  to  fest: 
To  plesen  hem  I  wol  do  my  labour. 

*  Semiramig.  3  Ton  wished  undone.  3  Eeceive. 


4802-4838.  THE  MAN  OP  LAWES  TALE.  135 

The  Soudan  saith,  I  wol  don  at  your  heat, 
And  kneling,  thanked  hire  of  that  request: 
So  glad  he  was,  he  n'iste  not  what  to  say, 
She  kist  hire  sone,  and  home  she  goth  hire  way. 

Arrived  ben  these  cristen  folk  to  londe 
In  Surrie,  with  a  gret  solempne  route, 
And  hastily  this  Soudan  sent  his  sonde,1 
First  to  his  mother,  and  all  the  regne  aboute, 
And  sayd,  his  wif  was  comen  out  of  doute, 
And  praide  hem  for  to  riden  again2  the  quene, 
The  honour  of  his  regne  to  sustene. 

Gret  was  the  presse,  and  riche  was  th'  array 
Of  Surriens  and  Romanes  met  in  fere.3 
The  mother  of  the  Soudan  riche  and  gay 
Eeceived  hire  with  all  so  glad  a  chere, 
As  any  mother  might  hire  doughter  dere: 
And  to  the  nexte  citee  ther  beside 
A  softe  pas4  solempnely  they  ride. 

Nought  trow  I,  the  triumph  of  Julius, 
Of  which  that  Lucan  maketh  swiche  a  bost, 
Was  realler,  or  more  curious, 
Than  was  th'  assemblee  of  this  blisful  host: 
Butte  this  scorpion,  this  wicked  gost,s 
The  Soudannesse,  for  all  hire  flattering 
Cast6  under  this  ful  mortally  to  sting. 

The  Soudan  cometh  himself  sone  after  this 
So  really,7  that  wonder  is  to  tell: 
And  welcometh  hire  with  alle  joye  and  blis. 
And  thus  in  mirth  and  joye  I  let  hem  dwell. 
The  fruit  of  this  matere  is  that  I  tell. 
Whan  time  came,  men  thought  it  for  the  best 
That  revel  stint,8  and  men  go  to  hir  rest. 

The  time  come  is,  this  olde  Soudannesse 
Ordeined  hath  the  feste  of  which  I  tolde, 
And  to  the  feste  cristen  folk  hem  dresse 
In  general,  ya  bothe  yonge  and  olde. 
Ther  may  men  fest  and  realtee'  beholde, 

1  Message.  2  To  ride  to  meet.  3  Together. 

*  At  a  gentle  pace.  8  Spirit.  8  Devised. 

J  .Loyally.  8  Cease.  »  Royalty. 


136  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  4839-4873. 

And  daintees  mo  than  I  can  you  devise, 
But  all  to  dere  they  bought  it  or  they  rise.' 

O  soden  wo,  that  ever  art  successour 
To  worldly  blis,  spreint2  is  with  bitternesse 
Th'  ende  of  the  joye  of  our  worldly  labour: 
Wo  occupieth  the  fyn3  of  our  gladnesse. 
Herken  this  conseil  for  thy  sikernesse : 
Upon  thy  glade  day  have  in  thy  minde 
The  unware  wo  of  harm,  that  cometh  behinde. 

For  shortly  for  to  tellen  at  a  word, 
The  Soudan  and  the  cristen  everich  on 
Ben4  all  to-hewe,  and  stiked5  at  the  bord, 
But  it  were  only  dame  Custance  alone. 
This  olde  Soudannesse,  this  cursed  crone, 
Hath  with  hire  frendes  don  this  cursed  dede, 
For  she  hireself  wold  all  the  contree  lede. 

Ne  ther  was  Surrien  non  that  was  converted, 
That  of  the  conseil  of  the  Soudan  wot, 
That  he  n'as  all  to-hewe,  er  he  asterted:6 
And  Custance  han  they  taken  anon  fote-hot,7 
And  in  a  ship  all  stereles  (God  wot) 
They  han  hire  set,  and  bidden  hire  lerne  sayle 
Out  of  Surrie  againward  to  Itaille. 

A  certain  tresor  that  she  thither  ladde, 
And  soth  to  sayn,  vitaille  gret  plentee, 
They  han  hire  yeven,  and  clothes  eke  she  hadde, 
And  forth  she  sayleth  in  the  salte  see ; 
O  my  Custance,  ful  of  benignitee, 
O  emperoures  yonge  doughter  dere, 
He  that  is  lord  of  fortune  be  thy  stere. 

She  blesseth  hire,  and  with  ful  pitous  vois 
Unto  the  crois  of  Crist  thus  sayde  she. 
O  clere,  o  weleful  auter,8  holy  crois, 
Bed  of  the  lambes  blood  ful  of  pitee, 
That  wesh  the  world  fro  the  old  iniquitee, 

1  They  paid  too  dear  for  it  ere  they  left  the  banquet.         s  Sprinkled 
8  End.  «  Will  be.  *  Cut  down  and  stabbed. 

6  Started  to  go.  7  Full  speed.  8  O  author  of  blessings. 


4874-4908.  THE  MAN  OP  LAWES  TALE.  137 

Me  fro  the  fende,1  and  fro  his  clawes  kepe, 
That  day  that  I  shal  drenchen  in  the  depe. 

Victorious  tree2  protection  of  trewe, 
That  only  worthy  were  for  to  here 
The  king  of  heven,  with  his  woundes  newe, 
The  white  lamb,  that  hurt  was  with  a  spere ; 
Flemer3  of  fendes,  out  of  him  and  here 
On  which  thy  limmes  faithfully  extenden, 
Me  kepe,  and  yeve  me  might  my  lif  to  amenden. 

Yeres  and  dayes  fleet  this  creature 
Thurghout  the  see  of  Grece,  unto  the  strait© 
Of  Maroc,  as  it  was  hire  aventure: 
On  many  a  sory  mele4  now  may  she  baite,5 
After  hire  deth  ful  often  may  she  waite,6 
Or7  that  the  wilde  waves  wol  hire  drive 
Unto  the  place  ther  as  she  shal  arive. 

Men  mighten  asken,  why  she  was  not  slain? 
Eke  at  the  feste  who  might  hire  body  save  1 
And  I  answer  to  that  demand  again, 
Who  saved  Daniel  in  the  horrible  cave, 
Ther  every  wight,  save  he,  master  or  knave, 
Was  with  the  leon  frette,8  or  he  asterte  ? 
No  wight  but  God,  that  he  bare  in  his  herte. 

God  list  to  shew  his  wonderful  miracle 
In  hire,  for  we  shuld  seen  his  mighty  werkes: 
Crist,  which  that  is  to  every  harm  triacle,9 
By  certain  menes  oft,  as  knowen  clerkes, 
Doth  thing  for  certain  ende,  that  ful  derke  is 
To  mannes  wit,  that  for  our  ignorance 
Ne  can  nat  know  his  prudent  purveiance.10 

Now  sith  she  was  not  at  the  feste  yslawe," 
Who  kepte  hire  fro  the  drenching  in  the  see  ? 
Who  kepte  Jonas  in  the  fishes  mawe, 
Til  he  was  spouted  up  at  Ninivee  ? 
Wei  may  men  know,  it  was  no  wight  but  he 

1  Fiend.  2  The  cross.  3  Banisher.  *  Meal. 

8  Feed.  •  Await.  ^  Before.  8  Devoured. 

•  A  remedy,  a  corruption  from  the  Fr.  theriague. 
io  Providence.  «  Slain. 

12* 


138  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  4909-4915. 

That  kept  the  peple  Ebraike  fro  drenching, 
With  drye  feet  thurghout  the  see  passing. 

Who  bade  the  foure  spirits  of  tempest, 
That  power  han  to  anoyen  lond  and  see, 
Both  north  and  south,  and  also  west  and  est, 
Anoyen  neyther  see,  ne  lond,  ne  tree  1 
Sothly  the  commander  of  that  was  he 
That  fro  the  tempest  ay  this  woman  kepte, 
As  wel  whan  she  awoke  as  whan  she  slepte. 

Wher  might  this  woman  mete  and  drinke  have  t 
Three  yere  and  more,  how  lasteth  hire  vitaille  1 
Who  fed  the  Egyptian  Mary  in  the  cave 
Or  in  desert  ?  no  wight  but  Crist  sansfaiUg, 
Five  thousand  folk  it  was  as  gret  marvaill© 
With  loves  five  and  fishes  two  to  fede : 
God  sent  his  foyson1  at  hire  grete  nede. 

She  driveth  forth  into  our  Ocean 
Thurghout  our  wide  see,  til  at  the  last 
Under  an  hold,  that  nempnen2  I  ne  can, 
Fer  in  Northumberlond,  the  wave  hire  casi^ 
And  in  the  sand  hire  ship  stiked  so  fast, 
That  thennes  wolde3  it  not  in  all  a  tide: 
The  wille  of  Crist  was  that  she  shulde  abide. 

The  constable  of  the  castle  doun  is  fare4 
To  seen  this  wrecke,  and  al  the  ship  he  sought, 
And  fond5  this  wery  woman  ful  of  care ; 
He  fond  also  the  tresour  that  she  brought : 
In  hire  langage  mercy  she  besought, 
The  lif  out  of  hire  body  for  to  twinne,6 
Hire  to  deliver  of  wo  that  she  was  inne. 

A  maner  Latin  corrupt  was  hire  speche, 
But  algate7  therby  was  she  understonde. 
The  constable,  whan  him  list  no  lenger  seche, 
This  woful  woman  brought  he  to  the  londe. 
She  kneleth  doun,  and  thanketh  Goddes  sonde ; 
But  what  she  was,  she  wolde  no  man  seye 
For  foule  ne  faire,  though  that  she  shulde  deye. 

1  Abundance.  3  Name.  3  Thence  went. 

*  Gone.  '  Found. 

6  Flock,  snatch.  7  Nevertheless. 


4946-4980.  THE  MAN  OP  LAWES  TALE. 

She  said,  she  was  so  mased1  in  the  see, 
That  she  forgate  hire  minde,  by  hire  trouth. 
The  constable  hath  of  hir  so  gret  pitee 
And  eke  his  wif,  that  they  wepen  for  routh:' 
She  was  so  diligent  withouten  slouth3 
To  serve  and  plesen  everich  in  that  place, 
That  all  hire  love,  that  loken  in  hire  face. 

The  constable  and  dame  Hermegild  his  wif 
Were  payenes,4  and  that  contree  every  wher ; 
But  Hermegild  loved  Custance  as  hire  lif ; 
And  Custance  hath  so  long  sojourned  ther 
In  orisons,  with  many  a  bitter  tere, 
Til  Jesu  hath  converted  thurgh  his  grace 
Dame  Hermegild,  constablesse  of  that  place. 

In  all  that  lond  no  cristen  dorste  route  f 
All  cristen  folk  ben  fled  fro  that  contree 
Thurgh  payenes,  that  conquereden  all  aboute 
The  plages  of  the  North  by  lond  and  see. 
To  Wales  fled  the  cristianitee 
Of  olde  Bretons,  dwelling  in  this  ile ; 
Ther  was  hir  refuge  for  the  mene  while. 

But  yet  n'  ere"  cristen  Bretons  so  exiled, 
That  ther  n'ere  som  which  in  hir  privitee 
Honoured  Crist,  and  hethen  folk  begiled  ;7 
And  neigh  the  castle  swiche  ther  dwelten  three: 
That  on  of  hem  was  blind,  and  might  not  see, 
But  it  were  with  thilke  eyen  of  his  minde, 
With  which  men  mowen  see  whan  they  ben  blinde. 

Bright  was  the  sonne,  as  in  that  sommers  day, 
For  which  the  constable  and  his  wif  also 
And  Custance,  han  ytake  the  righte  way 
Toward  the  see,  a  furlong  way  or  two, 
To  plaien,  and  to  romen  to  and  fro ; 
And  in  hir  walk  this  blinde  man  they  mette, 
Croked  and  olde,  with  eyen  fast  yshette, 

1  Puzzled.  2  Compassion.  8  Sloth. 

*  Pagans.  e  Come.  « Were  not 

7  Deceived. 


140  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  4981-501& 

In  the  name  of  Crist  (cried  this  blinde  Breton) 
Dame  Hermegild,  yeve  me  my  sight  again. 
This  lady  wexe  afraied  of  that  soun, 
Lest  that  hire  husbond,  shortly  for  to  sain, 
"Wold  hire  for  Jesu  Cristes  love  have  slain, 
Til  Custance  made  hire  bold,  and  bad  hire  werche 
The  will  of  Crist,  as  doughter  of  holy  cherche. 

The  constable  wexe  abashed  of  that  sight^ 
And  sayde ;  What  amounteth  all  this  fare  1 
Custance  answered ;  Sire,  it  is  Cristes  mighty 
That  helpeth  folk  out  of  the  fendes  snare: 
And  so  ferforth  she  gan  our  lay1  declare, 
That  she  the  constable,  er  that  it  were  eve, 
Converted,  and  on  Crist  made  him  beleve. 

This  constable  was  not  lord  of  the  place 
Of  which  I  speke,  ther  as  he  Custance  fond 
But  kept  it  strongly  many  a  winter  space, 
Under  Alia,  king  of  Northumberlond, 
That  was  ful  wise,  and  worthy  of  his  hond 
Againe  the  Scottes,  as  men  may  wel  here ; 
But  tourne  I  wol  againe  to  my  matere. 

Sathan,'  that  ever  us  waiteth  to  begile, 
Saw  of  Custance  all  hire  perfectioun, 
And  cast  anon  how  he  might  quite  hire  while,8 
And  made  a  yonge  knight,  that  dwelt  in  that  toun, 
Love  hire  so  hote  of  foule  affectioun, 
That  veraily  him  thought  that  he  shuld  spille,4 
But  he  of  hire  might  ones  han  his  wille. 

He  woeth  hire,  but  it  availeth  nought, 
She  wolde  do  no  sinne  by  no  wey: 
And  for  despit,  he  compassed  his  thought 
To  maken  hire  on  shameful  deth  to  dey. 
He  waiteth  whan  the  constable  is  away 

1  Law,  creed. 

2  The  following  plot  of  the  knight  against  Constance,  from  this  ver. 
to  ver.  5030.  and  also  her  adventure  with  the  steward,  from  ver.  5330 
to  ver.  5344,  are  both  to  be  found,  with  some  small  variations,  in  a  story  in 
the  Geita  Romanorum,  ch.  101.  Occleve  has  versified  the  whole  story  j 
as  he  has  another  from  the  same  collection,  De  Johnatha  et  muliere  maid, 
ch.  54.     Ibid.  (cxx.  Edit.) — Tyruhitt. 

3  Requite  her  labour.  *  Perish. 


5014r-5050.  THE  MAN  OP  LAWES  TALE.  141 

And  prively  upon  a  night  he  crepte 

In  Hermegildes  chambre  while  she  slepte. 

Wery,  forwaked1  in  hire  orisons, 
Slepeth  distance,  and  Hermegilde  also. 
This  knight,  thurgh  Sathanas  temptations, 
All  softely  is  to  the  bed  ygo, 
And  cut  the  throte  ot  Hermegilde  atwo, 
And  layd  the  blody  knif  by  dame  distance, 
And  went  his  way,  ther  God  yeve  him  mischance. 

Sone  after  cometh  this  constable  home  again, 
And  eke  Alia,  that  king  was  of  that  lond, 
And  saw  his  wife  despitously  yslain, 
For  which  ful  oft  he  wept  and  wrong  his  hond ; 
And  in  the  bed  the  blody  knif  he  fond 
By  dame  Custance,  alas !  what  might  she  say  t 
For  veray  wo  hire  wit  was  all  away. 

To  king  Alia  was  told  all  this  mischance, 
And  eke  the  time,  and  wher,  and  in  what  wise, 
That  in  a  ship  was  fonden  this  Custance, 
As  here  before  ye  han  herd  me  devise : 
The  kinges  herte  of  pitee  gan  agrise,3 
Whan  he  saw  so  benigne  a  creature 
Falle  in  disese  and  in  misaventure. 

For  as  the  lamb  toward  his  deth  is  brought, 
So  stant  this  innocent  beforn  the  king : 
This  false  knight,  that  hath  this  treson  wrought, 
Bereth  hire  in  hond3  that  she  hath  don  this  thing: 
But  natheles  ther  was  gret  murmuring 
Among  the  peple,  and  sayn  they  cannot  gesse 
That  she  had  don  so  gret  a  wickednesse. 

For  they  han  seen  hire  ever  so  vertuous, 
And  loving  Hermegild  right  as  hire  lif : 
Of  this  bare  witnesse  everich  in  that  hous, 
Save  he  that  Hermegild  slow  with  his  knif: 
This  gentil  king  hath  caught  a  gret  motif 
Of  this  witness,  and  thought  he  wold  enquere 
Deper  in  this  cas,  trouthe  for  to  lere. 

1  Having  long  kept  awake.  *  To  shudder. 

*  Accuseth  her. 


142  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  6051-5086. 

Alas !  distance,  thou  hast  no  champion, 
Ne  lighten  canst  thou  not,  so  wala  wa ! 
But  he  that  starf1  for  our  redemption, 
And  bond  Sathan,  and  yet  lith2  ther  he  lay, 
So  be  thy  stronge  champion  this  day: 
For  but  if  Crist  on  thee  miracle  kithe,3 
Withouten  gilt  thou  shalt  be  slaine  as  swithe.4 

She  set  hire  doune  on  knees,  and  thus  she  sayde; 
Immortal  God,  that  savedest  Susanne 
Fro  false  blame,  and  thou  merciful  mayde, 
Mary  I  mene,  doughter  to  seint  Anne, 
Beforn  whos  child  angels  singen  Osanne, 
If  I  be  gilteles  of  this  felonie, 
My  socour  be,  or  elles  shal  I  die. 

Have  ye  not  seen  somtime  a  pale  face 
(Among  a  prees)5  of  him  that  hath  ben  lad 
Toward  his  deth,  wher  as  he  geteth  no  grace, 
And  swiche  a  colour  in  his  face  hath  had, 
Men  mighten  know  him  that  was  so  bestad,' 
Amonges  all  the  faces  in  that  route, 
So  stant  Custance,  and  loketh  hire  aboute, 

O  quenes  living  in  prosperitee, 
Duchesses,  and  ye  ladies  everich  on, 
Havethsom  routhe  on  hire  adversitee; 
An  emperoures  doughter  stant  alone ; 
She  hath  no  wight  to  whom  to  make  hire  mono; 
O  blood  real,7  that  stondest  in  this  drede, 
Fer  ben8  thy  frendes  in  thy  grete  nede. 

This  Alia  king  hath  swiche  compassioun, 
As  gentil  herte  is  fulfilled  of  pitee, 
That  fro  his  eyen  ran  the  water  doun. 
Now  hastily  do  fecche  a  book,  quod  he ; 
And  if  this  knight  wol  sweren,  now  that  she 
This  woman  slow,  yet  wol  we  us  avise, 
Whom  that  we  wol  that  shal  ben  our  justice. 

»Died. 

3 1  suppose,  "  subdued,"  "  softened." — See  TyruhiU'i  gl.  s.  v.  Lithe. 
*  Shew,  set  forth.  *  Immediately.  s  Press,  crowd. 

6  Situated.  1  Royal.  8  jpa  were. 


6086-5125.  THE  MAN   OF  LAWES  TALE.  143 

A  Breton  book,  written  with  Evangiles, 
Was  fet,  and  on  this  book  he  swore  anon 
She  giltif  was,  and  in  the  mene  whiles 
An  hond  him  smote  upon  the  nekke  bone, 
That  doun  he  fell  at  ones  as  a  stone : 
And  both  his  eyen  brost  out  of  his  face 
In  sight  of  every  body  in  that  place. 

A  vois  was  herd,  in  general  audience, 
That  sayd ;  Thou  hast  desclandred1  gilteles 
The  doughter  of  holy  chirche  in  high  presence; 
Thus  hast  thou  don,  and  yet  hold  I  my  pees. 
Of  this  mervaille  agast  was  all  the  prees,8 
As  mased  folk  they  stonden  everich  on 
For  drede  of  wreche,3  save  distance  alone. 

Gret  was  the  drede  and  eke  the  repentance 
Of  hem  that  hadden  wronge  suspection 
Upon  this  sely4  innocent  Custance; 
And  for  this  miracle,  in  conclusion, 
And  by  Custances  mediation, 
The  king,  and  many  another  in  that  place 
Converted  was,  thanked  be  Cristes  grace. ' 

This  false  knight  was  slain  for  his  untrouthe 
By  jugement  of  Alia  hastily ; 
And  yet  Custance  had  of  his  deth  gret  routhe; 
And  after  this  Jesus  of  his  mercy 
Made  Alia  wedden  ful  solempnely 
This  holy  woman,  that  is  so  bright  and  shene, 
And  thus  hath  Crist  ymade  Custance  a  quene. 

But  who  was  woful  (if  I  shal  not  lie) 
Of  this  wedding  but  Donegild  and  no  mo, 
The  kinges  mother,  ful  of  tyrannie  ? 
Hire  thoughte  hire  cursed  herte  brast  atwo; 
She  wolde  not  that  hire  sone  had  do  so; 
Eire  thoughte  a  despit,  that  he  shulde  take 
So  strange  a  creature  unto  his  make. 

Me  list  not  of  the  chaf  ne  of  the  stre 
Maken  so  long  a  tale,  as  of  the  corn. 
What  shulde  I  tellen  of  the  realtee 
Of  this  mariage,  or  which  cours  goth  beforn, 
Who  bloweth  in  a  trompe  or  in  an  horn? 
1  Slandered.  3  Crowd.  s  Vengeance.  *  Uarmleu. 


144  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  5126-5162. 

The  fruit  of  every  tale  is  for  to  say; 

They  ete  and  drinke,  and  dance,  and  sing,  and  play. 

They  gon  to  bed,  as  it  was  skill  and  right, 
For  though  that  wives  ben  ful  holy  thinges, 
They  mosten  take  in  patience  a  night 
Swiche  maner  necessaries,  as  ben  plesinges 
To  folk  that  han  ywedded  hem  with  ringes,  . 
And  lay  a  lite  hir  holinesse  aside 
As  for  the  time,  it  may  no  bet  betide. 

On  hire  he  gat  a  knave  childe1  anon, 
And  to  a  bishop,  and  his  constable  eke 
He  toke  his  wife  to  kepe,  whan  he  is  gon 
To  Scotland  ward,  his  fomen  for  to  seke. 
Now  laire  Custance,  that  is  so  humble  and  meke 
So  long  is  gon  with  childe  til  that  still 
She  halt2  hire  chambre,  abiding  Cristes  will. 

The  time  is  come,  a  knave  child  she  bere; 
Mauricius  at  the  fontstone  they  him  calle. 
This  constable  doth  forth  come  a  messager, 
And  wrote  unto  his  king  that  cleped  was  Alle, 
How  that  this  blisful  tiding  is  befalle, 
And  other  tidings  spedeful  for  to  say, 
He  hath  the  lettre,  and  forth  he  goth  his  way. 

This  messager,  to  don  his  avantage, 
Unto  the  kinges  mother  rideth  swithe,3 
And  salueth4  hire  ful  faire  in  his  langage. 
Madame,  quod  he,  ye  may  be  glad  and  blithe, 
And  thanken  God  an  hundred  thousand  sithe; 
My  lady  quene  hath  child,  withouten  doute, 
To  joy e  and  blisse  of  all  this  regno  aboute. 

Lo  here  the  lettre  seled  of  this  thing, 
That  I  most  bere  in  all  the  hast  I  may: 
If  ye  wol  ought  unto  your  sone  the  king, 
I  am  your  servant  bothe  night  and  day. 
Donegilde  answerd,  As  now  at  this  time  nay; 
But  here  I  wol  all  night  thou  take  thy  rest, 
To-morwe  wol  I  say  thee  what  me  lest. 

i  A  boy.  'Keepeth.         3  Quickly.  *  Salutcth. 


5163-5201.  THE  MAN  OF  LAWES  TALE.  146 

This  messager  drank  sadly  ale  and  wine, 
And  stolen  were  his  lettres  prively 
Out  of  his  box,  while  he  slept  as  a  swine  j 
And  contrefeted  was  ful  subtilly 
Another  lettre,  wrought  ful  sinfully 
Unto  the  king  directe  oi  this  matere 
Fro  his  constable,  as  ye  shal  after  here. 

This  lettre  spake,  the  quene  delivered  was 
Of  so  horrible  a  fendliche1  creature, 
That  in  the  castle  non  so  hardy  was 
That  any  while2  dorste  therein  endure: 
The  mother  was  an  elfe  by  aventure 
Ycome,  by  charmes  or  by  sorcerie, 
And  everich  man  hateth  hire  compagnie. 

"Wo  was  this  king  whan  he  this  lettre  had  sein, 
But  to  no  wight  he  told  his  sorwes  sore, 
But  of  his  owen  hand  he  wrote  again ; 
Welcome  the  sonde3  of  Crist  for  evermore 
To  me,  that  am  now  lerned  in  this  lore : 
Lord,  welcome  be  thy  lust  and  thy  plesance, 
My  lust  I  put  all  in  thyn  ordinance. 

Kepeth  this  child,  al  be  it  foule  or  faire,. 
And  eke  my  wif  unto  min  home  coming: 
Crist  whan  him  list  may  senden  me  an  heire 
More  agreable  than  this  to  my  liking. 
This  lettre  he  seled,  prively  weping, 
"Which  to  the  messager  was  taken  sone, 
And  forth  he  goth,  ther  is  no  more  to  done. 

O  messager,  fulfilled  of  dronkenesse, 
Strong  is  thy  breth,  thy  limmes  faltren  ay, 
And  thou  bewreiest  alle  secrenesse ; 
Thy  mind  is  lorne,  thou  janglest  as  a  jay; 
Thy  face  is  tourned  in  a  new  array ; 
Ther  dronkenesse  regneth  in  any  route, 
Ther  is  no  conseil  hid  withouten  doute. 

O  Donegild,  I  ne  have  non  English  digne4 
Unto  thy  malice,  and  thy  tirannie : 
And  therfore  to  the  fende  I  thee  resigne, 
Let  him  enditen  of  thy  traitorie. 

1  Fiendlike.  2  Should  this  be  "  wight  V 

3  The  gilt,  that  which  Christ  hath  sent.  4  Adequate  to  describe. 

13 


146  THE  CANTERBUEY  TALES.  6202-5239. 

Fy  mannish,1  fy ;  o  nay  by  God  I  lie ; 
Fy  fendliche  spirit,  for  I  dare  wel  telle, 
Though  thou  here  walke,  thy  spirit  is  in  helle. 

This  messager  cometh  fro  the  king  again, 
And  at  the  kinges  modres2  court  he  light, 
And  she  was  of  this  messager  ful  iayn,3 
And  plesed  him  in  all  that  ever  she  might. 
He  dranke,  and  wel  his  girdel  underpight  j4 
He  slepeth,  and  he  snoreth  in  his  gise 
All  night,  until  the  sonne  gan  arise. 

Eft5  were  his  lettres  stolen  everich  on, 
And  contrefeted  lettres  in  this  wise. 
The  king  commanded  his  constable  anon 
Up6  peine  of  hanging  and  of  high  jewise,7 
That  he  ne  shulde  soffren  in  no  wise 
Custance  within  his  regne  for  to  abide 
Three  daies,  and  a  quarter  of  a  tide ; 

But  in  the  same  ship  as  he  hire  fond, 
Hire  and  hire  yonge  sone,  and  all  hire  gere 
He  shulde  put,  and  croude8  hire  iro  the  lond, 
And  charge  hire,  that  she  never  eft9  come  there. 
O  my  Custance,  wel  may  thy  ghost  have  fere, 
And  sleping  in  thy  dreme  ben  in  penance, 
Whan  Donegild  cast10  all  this  ordinance. 

This  messager  on  morwe  whan  he  awoke, 
Unto  the  castel  halt  the  nexte  way ; 
And  to  the  constable  he  the  lettre  toke; 
And  whan  that  he  this  pitous  lettre  sey, 
Ful  oft  he  sayd  alas,  and  wala  wa ; 
Lord  Crist,  quod  he,  how  may  this  world  endure? 
So  ful  of  sinne  is  many  a  creature. 

O  mighty  God,  if  that  it  be  thy  will, 
Sin  thou  art  rightful  juge,  how  may  it  be 
That  thou  wolt  soffren  innocence  to  spill" 
And  wicked  folk  regne  in  prosperitee? 
A  good  Custance,  alas  !  so  wo  is  me, 
That  I  mote  be  thy  turmentour,  or  dey 
On  shames  deth,  ther  is  non  other  wey. 

I  -  Thou  human  thing !"    Used  1 1  re  as  a  term  of  reproach, 
s  Mother's.  3  Pleased,  satisfied.  «  Stuffed. 

•  Again.  6  Upon.  7  Punishment 

8  Drive.  9  Again.  I0  Devised.  "  Perish. 


6240-5279.  THE  MAN  OP  LAWES  TALE.  147 

Wepen  both  yong  and  old  in  al  that  place 
Whan  that  the  king  this  cursed  lettre  sent: 
And  distance  with  a  dedly  pale  face 
The  fourthe  day  toward  the  ship  she  went: 
But  natheles  she  taketh  in  good  entent 
The  will  of  Crist,  and  kneling  on  the  sfcrond 
She  sayde,  Lord,  ay  welcome  be  thy  sond. 

He  that  me  kepte  fro  the  false  blame, 
While  I  was  in  the  lond  amonges  you, 
He  can  me  kepe  fro  harme  and  eke  lio  shame 
In  the  salt  see,  although  I  se  not  how : 
As  strong  as  ever  he  was,  he  is  yet  now, 
In  him  trust  I,  and  in  his  mother  dere, 
That  is  to  me  my  sail  and  eke  my  stere. 

Hire  litel  child  lay  weping  in  hire  arm, 
And  kneling  pitously  to  him  she  said, 
Pees,  litel  sone,  I  wol  do  thee  no  harm : 
With  that  hire  couverchief  of  her  bed  she  braid1 
And  over  his  litel  eyen  she  it  laid, 
And  in  hire  arme  she  lulleth  it  iul  last, 
And  into  the  heven  hire  eyen  up  she  cast. 

Mother,  quod  she,  and  maydenbright  Marie, 
Soth  is,  that  thurgh  womannes  eggement 
Mankind  was  lorne,2  and  damned  ay  to  die, 
For  which  thy  child  was  on  a  crois  yrent: 
Thy  blistul  eyen  saw  all  his  turment, 
Than  is  ther  no  comparison  betwene 
Thy  wo,  and  any  wo  man  may  sustene. 

Thou  saw  thy  child  yslain  before  thin  eyen, 
And  yet  now  liveth  my  litel  child  parfay  :3 
Now,  lady  bright,  to  whom  all  wof  ul  crien, 
Thou  glory  of  womanhed,  thou  faire  may, 
Thou  haven  of  refute,  bright  sterre  of  day 
Eew  on  my  child,  that  of  thy  gentillesse 
Eewest  on  every  rewlul  in  distresse. 

O  litel  child,  alas !  what  is  thy  gilt, 
That  never  wroughtest  sinne  as  yet  parde1?4 
Why  wol  thin  harde  father  have  thee  spilt? 
O  mercy,  dere  constable,  (quod  she) 
As  let  my  litel  child  dwell  here  with  thee: 
•Took  off.  'Lost,  a  By  my  troth.  «Pardieux. 


148  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  5280-5316. 

And  if  thou  darst  not  saven  him  fro  blame, 
So  kisse  him  ones  in  his  fadres  name. 

Therwith  she  loketh  backward  to  the  lond, 
And  saide ;  Farewel,  housbond  routheles ! 
And  up  she  rist,  and  walketh  doun  the  strond 
Toward  the  ship,  hire  foloweth  all  the  prees  :* 
And  ever  she  praieth  hire  child  to  hold  his  pees, 
And  taketh  hire  leve,  and  with  an  holy  entent 
She  blesseth  hire,  and  into  the  ship  she  went. 

Vitailled  was  the  ship,  it  is  no  drede,2 
Habundantly  for  hire  a  ful  long  space: 
And  other  necessaries  that  shuld  nede 
She  had  ynow,  heried  be  Goddes  grace: 
For  wind  and  wether,  almighty  God  purchace, 
And  bring  hire  home,  I  can  no  better  say, 
But  in  the  see  she  driveth  forth  hire  way. 

Alia  the  king  cometh  home  sone  after  this 
Unto  his  castel,  of  the  which  I  told, 
And  asketh  wher  his  wif  and  his  child  is ; 
The  constable  gan  about  his  herte  cold, 
And  plainly  all  the  matere  he  him  told 
As  ye  han  herd,  I  can  tell  it  no  better, 
And  shewed  the  king  his  sele  and  his  letter  f 

And  sayde ;  Lord,  as  ye  commanded  me 
Up  peine  of  deth,  so  have  I  don  certain. 
This  messager  turmented  was,  til  he 
Moste  beknowe,  and  tellen  plat3  and  plain, 
Fro  night  to  night  in  what  place  he  had  lain: 
And  thus  by  wit  and  subtil  enquering 
Imagined  was  by  whom  this  harm  gan  spring. 

The  hand  was  knowen  that  the  lettre  wrote, 
And  all  the  venime  of  this  cursed  dede; 
But  in  what  wise,  certainly  I  n'ot. 
The  effect  is  this,  that  Alia  out  of  drede4 
His  moder  slew,  that  moun5  men  plainly  rede, 
For  that  she  traitour  was  to  hire  ligeance: 
Thus  endeth  this  old  Donegild  with  meschance. 

i  Crowd.  a  Doubt  » Flat 

*  Without  doubt.  6  Must 


6317-5351.  THE  MAN  OF  LAWES  TALE.  149 

The  sorwe  that  this  Alia  night  and  day 
Maketh  for  his  wif  and  for  his  child  also, 
Ther  is  no  tonge  that  it  tellen  may. 
But  now  wol  I  agen  to  distance  go, 
That  fleteth  in  the  see  in  peine  and  wo 
Five  yere  and  more,  as  liked  Cristes  sonde1 
Or2  that  hire  ship  approched  to  the  londe. 

Under  an  hethen  castel  at  the  last, 
(Of  which  the  name  in  my  text  I  not  find) 
Custance  and  eke  hire  child  the  see  up  cast. 
Almighty  God,  that  saved  all  mankind, 
Have  on  Custance  and  on  hire  child  som  mind, 
That  fallen  is  in  hethen  hond  eftsone3 
In  point  to  spill,  as  I  shal  tell  you  sone. 

Doun  fro  the  castel  cometh  ther  many  a  wight 
To  gauren4  on  this  ship,  and  on  Custance : 
But  shortly  fro  the  castel  on  a  night, 
The  lordes  steward  (God  yeve  him  meschance) 
A  theef,  that  had  reneyed  our  creance, 
Came  into  the  ship  alone,  and  said,  he  wolde 
Hire  lemman  be,  whether  she  wolde  or  n'olde.' 

"Wo  was  this  wretched  woman  tho  begon, 
Hire  childe  cried,  and  she  cried  pitously: 
But  blisful  Mary  halpe6  hire  right  anon, 
For  with  hire  strogling  wel  and  mightily 
The  theef  fell  over  bord  al  sodenly, 
And  in  the  see  he  drenched  for  vengeance, 
And  thus  hath  Crist  unwemmed7  kept  Custance. 

O  foule  lust  of  luxurie,  lo  thin  ende, 
Nat  only  that  thou  faintest  mannes  mind, 
But  veraily  thou  wolt  his  body  shende." 
Th'ende  of  thy  werk,  or  of  thy  lustes  blinde, 
Is  complaining :  how  many  may  men  find, 
That  not  for  werk  somtime,  but  for  th'entent 
To  don  this  sinne,  ben  other  slain  or  shent. 


1  As  it  pleased  Christ's  will. 

2  Before. 

8  Presently. 

<  Gaze. 

8  Would  not. 

•  Helped. 

7  Unspotted,  undeflled. 

8  Ruin. 
13* 

150  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  5352-5391. 

How  may  this  weke  woman  han  the  strength 
Hire  to  defend  again  this  renegate  ? 

0  Golias,  unmesurable  of  length, 

How  mighte  David  maken  thee  so  mate  ?x 
So  yonge,  and  of  armure  so  desolate, 
How  dorst  he  loke  upon  thy  drediul  face? 
Wei  may  men  seen  it  was  but  Goddes  grace. 

Who  yaf2  Judith  corage  or  hardinesse 
To  sleen  him  Holof  ernes  in  his  tent. 
And  to  deliver  out  of  wretchednesse 
The  peple  oi  God  ?  I  say  for  this  entent, 
That  right  as  God  spirit  of  vigour  sent 
To  hem,  and  saved  hem  out  of  meschance, 
So  sent  he  might  and  vigour  to  distance. 

Forth  goth  hire  ship  thurghout  the  narwe  mouth 
Of  Jubaltare3  and  Septe,4  driving  alway, 
Somtime  West,  and  somtime  North  and  South, 
And  somtime  Est,  ful  many  a  wery  day: 
Til  Cristes  moder  (blessed  be  she  ay) 
Hath  shapen  thurgh  hire  endeles  goodnesse 
To  make  an  end  of  all  hire  hevinesse. 

Now  let  us  stint  of  Custance  but  a  throw, 
And  speke  we  of  the  Eomane  emperour, 
That  out  of  Surrie  hath  by  lettres  knowe 
The  slaughter  ot  cristen  folk,  and  dishonour 
Don  to  his  doughter  by  a  false  traitour, 

1  mene  the  cursed  wicked  Soudannesse, 
That  at  the  f  est  let  sleen5  both  more  and  lesse. 

For  which  this  emperour  hath  sent  anon 
His  senatour,  with  real  ordinance, 
And  other  lordes,  God  wote,  many  on, 
On  Surriens  to  taken  high  vengeance : 
They  brennen,  sleen,  and  bring  hem  to  meschance 
Ful  many  a  day:  but  shortly  this  is  th'ende, 
Homward  to  Borne  they  shapen  hem  to  wende. 

This  senatour  repaireth  with  victorie 
To  Rome  ward,  sayling  ful  really, 
And  met  the  ship  driving,  as  saith  the  storie, 
In  which  Custance  sitteth  ful  pitously : 
Nothing  ne  knew  he  what  she  was,  ne  why 

'  Feeble,  dead.  2  Gave.  s  Gibraltar. 

4  Ceuta,  formerly  Septa,  opposite  Gibraltar.  *  Caused  to  be  slain. 


5392-5428.  THE  MAN  OP  LAWES  TALE.  151 

She  was  in  swiche  array,  ne  she  wil  sey1 
Of  hire  estat,  though  that  she  shulde  dey. 

He  bringeth  hire  to  Rome,  and  to  his  wif 
He  yaf  hire,  and  hire  yonge  sone  also . 
And  with  the  senatour  she  lad  hire  lif. 
Thus  can  our  lady  bringen  out  ol  wo 
Woful  Custance,  and  many  another  mo: 
And  longe  time  dwelled  she  in  that  place, 
In  holy  werkes  ever,  as  was  hire  grace 

The  senatoures  wif  hire  aunte  was, 
But  for  all  that  she  knew  hire  never  the  more: 
I  wol  no  longer  tarien  in  this  cas, 
But  to  king  Alia,  which  I  spake  of  yore, 
That  for  his  wit  wepeth  and  siketh  sore, 
I  wol  returne,  and  let  I  woi  Custance 
Under  the  senatoures  governance. 

King  Alia,  which  that  had  his  moder  slain, 
Upon  a  day  tell  in  swiche  repentance, 
That  if  I  shortly  tellen  shal  and  plain, 
To  Borne  he  cometh  to  receive  his  penance, 
And  putte  him  in  the  popes  ordinance 
In  high  and  low,  and  Jesu  Crist  besought, 
Foryeve  his  wicked  werkes  that  he  had  wrought. 

The  fame  anon  thurghout  the  toun  is  born, 
How  Alia  king  shal  come  on  pilgrimage, 
By  herbergeours2  that  wenten  him  beforn, 
For  which  the  senatour,  as  was  usage, 
Rode  him  againe,  and  many  of  his  linage, 
As  wel  to  shewen  his  high  magnificence, 
As  to  don  any  king  a  reverence. 

Gret  chere  doth  this  noble  senatour 
To  king  Alia,  and  he  to  him  also ; 
Everich  of  hem  doth  other  gret  honour; 
And  so  befell,  that  in  a  day  or  two 
This  senatour  is  to  king  Alia  go 
To  fest,  and  shortly,  if  I  shal  not  lie, 
Custances  sone  went  in  his  compagnie. 

1  Say,  speak.  8  Harbingers,  caterers  for  lodging!. 


152  THE  CANTEKBURT  TALES.  5429-5463, 

Som  men  wold  sain1  at  requeste  of  distance 
This  senatour  hath  lad  this  child  to  feste; 
I  may  not  tellen  every  circumstance, 
Be  as  be  may,  ther  was  he  at  the  leste: 
But  soth  is  this,  that  at  his  mothers  hesto 
Beforn  Alia,  during  the  metes  space,2 
The  child  stood,  loking  in  the  kinges  face. 

This  Alia  king  hath  of  this  child  gret  wonder, 
And  to  the  senatour  he  said  anon, 
Whos  is  that  faire  child  that  stondeth  yonder  1 
I  no't,  quod  he,  by  God  and  by  Seint  John; 
A  moder  he  hath,  but  fader  hath  he  non, 
That  I  of  wote :  but  shortly  in  a  stound3 
He  told  Alia  how  that  this  child  was  found. 

But  God  wot,  quod  this  senatour  also, 
So  vertuous  a  liver  in  all  my  lif 
Ne  saw  I  never,  as  she,  ne  herd  of  mo 
Of  worldly  woman,  maiden,  widewe  or  wif : 
I  dare  wel  sayn  hire  hadde  lever4  a  knit 
Thurghout  hire  brest,  than  ben  a  woman  wikke* 
Ther  is  no  man  could  bring  her  to  that  prikke. 

Now  was  this  child  as  like  unto  Custance 
As  possible  is  a  creature  to  be : 
This  Alia  hath  the  face  in  remembrance 
Of  dame  Custance,  and  thereon  mused  he, 
If  that  the  childes  moder  were  aught  she 
That  is  his  wif,  and  prively  he  signte,6 
And  sped  him  fro  the  table  that  he  mighte. 

Parfay,  thought  he,  fantome7  is  in  min  hed. 
I  ought  to  deme  of  skilful  jugement, 
That  in  the  salte  see  my  wif  is  ded. 
And  afterward  he  made  his  argument ; 
What  wot  I,  if  that  Crist  have  hider8  sent 
My  wif  by  see,  as  wel  as  he  hire  lent 
To  my  contree,  fro  thennes  that  she  went? 

•  Say  that. 

*  I.e.,  daring  an  interval  between  the  courses  of  the  dinner. 

*  Moment.  *  Liever,  sooner.  *  Wicked. 

*  Sighed.  1  Some  fancy.  «  Hither. 


5464-5498.  THE  HAN  OF  LAWES  TALE.  153 

And  after  noon  home  with  the  senatour 
Goth  Alia,  for  to  see  this  wonder  chance. 
This  senatour  doth  Alia  gret  honour, 
And  hastily  he  sent  after  Custance: 
But  trusteth1  wel,  hire  luste  not  to  dance. 
Whan  that  she  wiste  wherfore  was  that  sonde, 
Unnethe  upon  hire  feet  she  mighte  stonde. 

Whan  Alia  saw  his  wif,  faire  he  hire  grette, 
And  wept,  that  it  was  routhe  for  to  see, 
For  at  the  firste  look  he  on  hire  sette 
He  knew  wel  veraily  that  it  was  she: 
And  she  for  sorwe,  as  dorub  stant  as  a  tree: 
So  was  hire  herte  shette2  in  hire  distresse, 
Whan  she  remembered  his  unkindenesse. 

Twies  she  swouneth  in  his  owen  sight, 
He  wepeth  and  him  excuseth  pitously: 
Now  God,  quod  he,  and  all  his  halwes3  bright 
So  wisly4  on  my  soule  as5  have  mercy, 
That  of  youre  harme  as  gilteles  am  I, 
As  is  Maurice  my  sone,  so  like  your  face, 
Elles  the  fend*  me  fetche  out  of  this  place. 

Long  was  the  sobbing  and  the  bitter  peine, 
Or  that  hir  woful  hertes  mighten  cese, 
Gret  was  the  pitee  for  to  here  hem  pleine, 
Thurgh  whiche  pleintes  gan  hir  wo  encrese. 
I  pray  you  all  my  labour  to  relese, 
I  may  not  tell  hir  wo  until  to-morwe, 
I  am  so  wery  for  to  speke  of  sorwe. 

But  finally,  whan  that  the  soth7  is  wist> 
That  Alia  gilteles  was  of  hire  wo, 
I  trow  an  hundred  times  han  they  kist, 
And  swiche  a  blisse  is  ther  betwix  hem  two, 
That  save  the  joye  that  lasteth  evermo, 
Ther  is  non  like,  that  any  creature 
Hath  seen  or  shal,  while  that  the  world  may  dure. 

'  Trust  ye.  a  Overwhelmed. 

8  Holiness,  holy  things  or  beings.    "  All  hallows." 
4  Truly,  certainly. 

6  Take  "  as"  with  "  so"  as  a  mere  redundancy  of  expression ;  5m 
emnino,  ut.  6  Fiend.  1  Troth. 


154  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  5490-5536. 

Tho  praied  she  hire  husbond  mekely 
In  releef  of  hire  longe  pitous  pine, 
That  he  wold  pray  hire  fader  specially, 
That  of  his  magestee  he  -wold  encline 
To  vouchesauf  som  day  with  him  to  dine: 
She  praied  him  eke,  he  shulde  by  no  way 
Unto  hire  fader  no  word  of  hire  say. 

Som  men  wold  sayn,  how  that  the  child  Maurice 
Doth  this  message  until  this  emperour; 
But  as  I  gesse,  Alia  was  not  so  nice, 
To  him  that  is  so  soveraine  of  honour, 
As  he  that  is  of  cristen  folk  the  flour, 
Send  any  child,  but  it  is  bet  to  deme 
He  went  himself,  and  so  it  may  wel  seme. 

This  emperour  hath  granted  gentilly 
To  come  to  dinner,  as  he  him  besoughte: 
And  wel  rede  I,  he  loked  besily 
Upon  this  child,  and  on  his  doughter  thought. 
Alia  goth  to  his  inne,  and  as  him  ought 
Arraied  for  this  feste  in  every  wise, 
As  feriorth1  as  his  conning  may  suffice. 

The  morwe  came,  and  Alia  gan  him  dresse, 
And  eke  his  witj  this  emperour  to  mete : 
And  forth  they  ride  in  joye  and  in  gladnesse, 
And  whan  she  saw  hire  fader  in  the  strete, 
She  light  adoun  and  falleth  him  to  fete. 
Fader,  quod  she,  your  yonge  child  Custance 
Is  now  1  ul  clene  out  of  your  remembrance. 

I  am  your  doughter,  your  Custance,  quod  she, 
That  whilom  ye  han  sent  into  Surrie ; 
It  am  I,  fader,  that  in  the  salte  see 
Was  put  alone,  and  dampned  for  to  die. 
Now,  goode  fader,  I  you  mercy  crie, 
Send  me  no  more  into  non  hethenesse, 
But  thanketh  my  lord  here  of  his  kindenesse. 

Who  can  the  pitous  joye  tellen  all 
Betwix  hem  thre,  sin  they  ben  thus  ymettef 
But  of  my  tale  make  an  ende  I  shal, 

I  Far  forth,  completely. 


6537-5573.  THE  MAN  OP  LAWE3  TALE.  155 

The  day  goth  fast,  I  wol  no  longer  lette. 
Thise  glade  folk  to  dinner  ben  ysette, 
In  joy  and  blisse  at  mete  I  let  hem  dwell, 
A  thousand  told  wel  more  than  I  can  tell. 

This  child  Maurice  was  sithen  emperour 
Made  by  the  pope,  and  lived  cristenly, 
To  Cristes  chirche  did  he  gret  honour: 
But  I  let  all  his  storie  passen  by, 
Of  Custance  is  my  tale  specially, 
In  the  olde  Bomane  gestes1  men  may  find, 
Maurices  lif,  I  bere  it  not  in  mind. 

This  king  Alia,  when  he  his  time  sey, 
With  his  Custance,  his  holy  wif  so  swete, 
To  Englond  ben  they  come  the  righte  weyf 
Ther  as  they  live  in  joye  and  in  quiete. 
But  litel  while  it  lasteth  I  you  hete,3 
Joye  of  this  world  for  time  wol  not  abide, 
Fro  day  to  night  it  changeth  as  vhe  tide. 

Who  lived  ever  in  swiche  delite  o  day, 
That  him  ne  meved3  other  conscience, 
Or  ire,  or  talent,  or  som  kin  affray, 
Envie,  or  pride,  or  passion,  or  offence? 
I  ne  say  but  for  this  end  this  sentence, 
That  litel  while  in  joye  or  in  plesance 
Lasteth  the  blisse  of  Alia  with  Custance. 

For  deth,  that  taketh  of  hie  and  low  his  rente, 
Whan  passed  was  a  yere,  even  as  I  gesse, 
Out  01  this  world  this  king  Alia  he  hente, 
For  whom  Custance  hath  ful  gret  hevinesse. 
Now  let  us  praien  God  his  soule  blesse : 
And  dame  Custance,  finally  to  say, 
Toward  the  toun  of  Borne  goth  hire  way. 

To  Borne  is  come  this  holy  creature, 
And  findeth  ther  hire  frendes  hole  and  sound: 
Now  is  she  scaped  all  hire  aventure : 
And  whan  that  she  hire  fader  hath  yfound, 
Doun  on  hire  knees  falleth  she  to  ground, 

1  /.  e.,  the  getta  Romanorwn.  3  FromiM. 

s  Moved,  stirred  op. 


156  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  6574r-55S2. 

Weping  for  tendernesse  in  herte  blithe 

She  herieth  God  an  hundred  thousand  sitae.1 

In  vertue  and  in  holy  almesse  dede  , 
They  liven  alle,  and  never  asonder  wende : 
Till  deth  departeth  hem,  this  lif  they  lede: 
And  fareth  now  wel,  my  tale  is  at  an  ende. 
Now  Jesu  Crist,  that  of  his  might  may  sende 
Joye  after  wo,  governe  us  in  his  grace, 
And  kepe  us  alle  that  ben  in  this  place. 

*  lime*. 


157 


THE  WIF  OF  BATHES  PROLOGUE." 


6583-5614. 

Experience,  though  non  auctoritee 
"Were  in  this  world,  is  right  ynough  for  me 
To  speke  of  wo  that  is  in  mariage : 
For,  lordings,  sin  I  twelf  yere  was  of  age, 
(Thanked  be  God  that  is  eterne  on  live) 
Husbondes  at  chirche  dore  have  I  had  five, 
(If  I  so  often  might  han  wedded  be) 
And  all  were  worthy  men  in  hir  degree. 

But  me  was  told,  not  longe  time  agon  is, 
That  sithen  Crist  ne  went  never  but  onis2 
To  wedding,  in  the  Cane  of  Galilee, 
That  by  that  ilke3  ensample  taught  he  me, 
That  I  ne  shulde  wedded  be  but  ones. 
Lo,  herke  eke,  which  a  sharpe  word  for  the  nones, 
Beside  a  welle  Jesu,  God  and  man, 
Spake  in  reprefe  of  the  Samaritan: 
Thou  hast  yhadde  five  husbonds,  sayde  he ; 
And  thilke  man,  that  now  hath  wedded  thee, 
Is  not  thyn  husbond :  thus  said  he  certain ; 
What  that  he  ment  therby,  I  can  not  sain. 
But  that  I  aske,  why  that  the  fifthe  man 
Was  non  husbond  to  the  Samaritan  ? 
How  many  might  she  have  in  mariage  I 
Yet  herd  I  never  tellen  in  min  age 
Upon  this  noumbre  diffinitioun ; 
Men  may  devine,  and  glosen  up  and  doun. 

But  wel  I  wot,  expresse  withouten  lie 
God  bad  us  for  to  wex4  and  multiplie ; 
That  gentil  text  can  I  wel  understond. 
Eke  wel  I  wot,  he  sayd,  that  min  husbond 
Shuld  leve  fader  and  moder,  and  take  to  me ; 
But  of  no  noumbre  mention  made  he, 

1  On  the  reasons  for  placing  this  prologue  next  to  the  Man  of  Lawea 
Talo.  see  Tynchitt,  Ditcourte  I.  xyi.,  and  notes. 
1  Once.  3  Like.  *  Wax.  increase. 

14 


158  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  6615-5656. 

Of  bigamie  or  of  octogamie ; 

Why  shuld  men  than  speke  oi  it  vilanie  ? 

Lo  here  the  wise  king  Dan1  Salomon, 
I  trow  he  hadde  wives  mo  than  on, 
(As  wolde  God  it  leful  were  to  me 
To  be  refreshed  hali  so  oft  as  he) 
Which  a  gift  of  God  had  he  for  alle  his  wives  ? 
No  man  hath  swiche,  that  in  this  world  on  live  is. 
God  wot,  this  noble  king,  as  to  my  witte, 
The  firste  night  had  many  a  mery  fitte 
With  eche  of  hem,  so  wel  was  him  on  live. 
Blessed  be  God  that  I  have  wedded  five, 
Welcome  the  sixthe  whan  that  ever  he  shall. 
For  sith  I  wol  not  kepe  me  chaste  in  all, 
Whan  min  husbond  is  fro  the  world  ygon, 
Som  cristen  man  shal  wedden  me  anon. 
For  than  the  apostle  saith,  that  I  am  fre 
To  wedde,  a'  goddes  half,  wher  it  liketh  me. 
He  saith,  that  to  be  wedded  is  no  sinne ; 
Better  is  to  be  wedded  than  to  brinne. 

What  rekketh  me  though  folk  say  vilanie 
Of  shrewed2  Laraech,  and  his  bigamie? 
I  wot  wel  Abraham  was  an  holy  man, 
And  Jacob  eke,  as  fer  as  ever  I  can, 
And  eche  oi  hem  had  wives  mo  than  two, 
And  many  another  holy  man  also. 
Wher  can  ye  seen  in  any  maner  age 
That  highe  God  defended3  mariage 
By  expresse  word?    I  pray  you  telleth  me, 
Or  wher  commanded  he  virginitee? 

I  wot  as  wel  as  ye,  it  is  no  drede, 
The  apostle,  whan  he  spake  ol  maidenhede, 
He  said,  that  precept  therot  had  he  non: 
Men  may  conseille  a  woman  to  ben  on,4 
But  conseilling  is  no  commandement; 
He  put  it  in  our  owen  jugement. 

For  hadde  God  commanded  maidenhede, 
Than  had  he  dampned  wedding  out  oi  drede  f 
And  certes,of  ther  were  no  sede  ysowe, 
Virginitee  than  wherof  shuld  it  growe? 

Poule6  dorste  not  commanden  at  the  lest 
A  thing,  of  which  his  maister  yaf  non  hest. 

I  Lord.  2  Wicked.  » Limited 

*  To  be  one,  i.e.  to  be  a  nun.  5  Doubt.  6  St.  PauL 


6657-5696.      THE  WIP  OP  BATHES  PROLOGUE.  159 

The  dart  is  sette  up  for  virginitee, 

Catch  who  so  may,  who  renneth  best  let  see, 

But  this  word  is  not  take  of  every  wight, 

But  ther1  as  God  wol  yeve  it  oi  his  might. 

I  wot  wel  that  the  apostle  was  a  maid, 

But  natheles,  though  that  he  wrote  and  said, 

He  wold  that  every  wight  were  swiche  as  he^ 

All  n'is  but  conseil  to  virginitee. 

And  for  to  ben  a  wif  he  yaf  me  leve, 

Of  indulgence,  so  n'is  it  non  repreve* 

To  wedden  me,  if  that  my  make  die, 

Withoute  exception  of  bigamie; 

All  were  it  good  no  woman  for  to  touche, 

(He  ment  as  in  his  bed  or  in  his  couche) 

For  peril  is  both  fire  and  tow  to  assemble  ;8 

Ye  know  what  this  ensample  may  resemble. 

This  is  all  and  som,  he  held  virginitee 
More  parfit  than  wedding  in  fieeltee  :* 
(Freeltee  clepe5 1,  but  if  that  he  and  she 
Wold  lede  hir  lives  all  in  chastitee) 
I  graunt  it  wel,  I  have  Oi  non  envie, 
Who  maidenhed  preferre  to  bigamie ; 
It  liketh  hem  to  be  clene  in  body  and  gost: 
Of  min  estat  I  wol  not  maken  bost. 

For  wel  ye  know,  a  lord  in  his  houshold 
Ne  hath  nat  every  vessell  all  of  gold  : 
Som  ben  of  tree ,   and  don  hir  lord  service. 
God  clepeth  folk  to  him  in  sondry  wise, 
And  everich  hath  of  God  a  propre  gift, 
Som  this,  som  that,  as  that  him  liketh  shift. 
Virginitee  is  gret  perfection, 
And  continence  eke  with  devotion : 
But  Crist,  that  of  perfection  is  welle, 
Ne  bade  not  every  wight  he  shulde  go  selle 
All  that  he  had,  and  yeve  it  to  the  poure, 
And  in  swiche  wise  folow  him  and  his  lore:7 
He  spake  to  hem  that  wold  live  parfitly, 
And,  lordings,  (by  your  leve)  that  am  nat  I; 
I  wol  bestow  the  flour  of  all  myn  age 
In  th'  actes  and  the  fruit  of  mariage. 


'  Of  those  to  whom.  '  Reproach. 

*  I.e.,  to  bring  them  together.  *  Frailty. 

*  Say.  6  Wood.  7  Commandment. 


160  THE  CANTEBBUBY  TALES.  5697-6738. 

Tell  me  also,  to  what  conclusion 
"Were  membres  made  of  generation, 
And  of  so  parfit  wise  a  wight  ywrought? 
Trusteth  me  wel,  they  were  nat  made  for  nought. 
Glose  who  so  wol,  and  say  bothe  up  and  doun, 
That  they  were  made  for  purgatioun 
Of  urine,  and  of  other  thinges  smale, 
And  eke  to  know  a  female  from  a  male : 
And  for  non  other  cause?  say  ye  no? 
The  experience  wot  wel  it  is  not  so. 
So  that  the  clerkes  be  not  with  me  wroth, 
I  say  this,  that  they  maked  ben  for  both, 
This  is  to  sayn,  for  office,  and  for  ese 
Of  engendrure,  ther  we  not  God  displese. 
Why  shuld  men  elles  in  hir  bookes  sette, 
That  man  shal  yelden  to  his  wif  hire  dette? 
Now  wherwith  shuld  he  make  his  payement> 
If  he  ne  used  his  sely1  instrument  ? 
Than  were  they  made  upon  a  creature 
To  P'jrge  urine,  and  eke  for  engendrure. 

But  I  say  not  that  every  wight  is  hold, 
That  hath  swiche  harneis  as  I  to  you  told, 
To  gon  and  usen  hem  in  engendrure; 
Than  shuld  men  take  of  chastitee  no  cure* 
Crist  was  a  maide,  and  shapen  as  a  man, 
And  many  a  seint,  sith  that  this  world  began, 
Yet  lived  they  ever  in  parfit  chastitee. 
I  n'ill  envie  with  no  virginitee. 
Let  hem  with  bred  of  pured  whete  be  fed, 
And  let  us  wives  eten  barly  bred. 
And  yet  with  barly  bred,  Mark  tellen  can, 
Our  Lord  Jesu  refreshed  many  a  man. 
In  swiche  estat  as  God  hath  cleped3  us, 
I  wol  persever,  I  n'am  not  precious,4 
In  wifhode  wol  I  use  min  instrument 
As  frely  as  my  maker  hath  it  sent. 
If  I  be  dangerous  God  yeve  me  sorwe, 
Min  husbond  shal  it  have  both  even  and  morwe, 
Whan  that  him  list  come  forth  and  pay  his  dette. 
An  husbond  wol  I  have,  I  wol  not  lette, 
Which  shal  be  both  my  dettour  and  my  thrall,5 
And  have  his  tribulation  withall 

1  Harmless.  2  Care.  3  Called. 

4  Overnice.  *  Slave. 


5739-5780.      THE  WIP  OP  BATHES  PROLOGUE.  161 

Upon  his  flesh,  -while  that  I  am  his  wif. 
I  have  the  power  during  all  my  lif 
Upon  his  propre  body,  and  nat  he  ; 
Eight  thus  the  apostle  told  it  unto  me, 
And  bad  our  husbonds  for  to  love  us  wel ; 
All  this  sentence  me  liketh  every  del. 

Up  stert  the  pardoner,  and  that  anon ; 
Now,  dame,  quod  he,  by  God  and  by  Seint  John, 
Ye  ben  a  noble  prechour  in  this  cas. 
I  was  about  to  wed  a  wif,  alas ! 
What  1  shuld  I  bie1  it  on  my  flesh  so  dere  ? 
Yet  had  I  lever  wed  no  wif  to-yere. 

Abide,  quod  she,  my  tale  is  not  begonne. 
Nay,  thou  shalt  drinken  of  another  tonne 
Er  that  I  go,  shal  savour  worse  than  ale. 
And  whan  that  I  have  told  thee  forth  my  tale 
Of  tribulation  in  mariage, 
Of  which  I  am  expert  in  all  min  age, 
(This  is  to  sayn,  myself  hath  ben  the  whippe) 
Than  maiest  thou  chesen  wheder  thou  wolt  sipps 
Of  thilke  tonne,  that  I  shal  abroche. 
Beware  oi  it,  er  thou  to  neigh  approche. 
For  I  shal  tell  ensamples  mo  than  ten: 
Who  so  that  n'ill  beware  by  other  men 
By  him  shal  other  men  corrected  be : 
Thise  same  wordes  writeth  Ptholomee, 
Bede  in  his  Almageste,  and  take  it  there. 

Dame,  I  wold  pray  you,  if  your  will  it  were, 
Sayde  this  pardoner,  as  ye  began, 
Tell  forth  your  tale,  and  spareth  for  no  man, 
And  techeth  us  yonge  men  of  your  practike. 

Gladly,  quod  she,  sin  that  it  may  you  like. 
But  that  I  pray  to  all  this  compagnie, 
If  that  I  speke  after  my  fantasie, 
As  taketh  not  a  greefe  of  that  I  say, 
For  min  entente  is  not  but  for  to  play. 

Now,  sires,  than  wol  I  tell  you  forth  my  tale. 
As  ever  mote  I  drinken  win  or  ale 
I  shal  say  soth,  the  husbondes  that  I  had 
As  three  of  hem  were  good,  and  two  were  bad. 
The  three  were  goode  men  and  riche  and  old©. 
Unethes  mighten  they  the  statute  holde, 

1  Suffer. 
14* 


162  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  6781-5814. 

In  which  that  they  were  bounden  unto  me. 
Ye  wot  wel  what  I  mene  of  this  parde.' 
As  God  me  helpe,  I  laugh  whan  that  I  thinke, 
How  pitously  a-night  I  made  hem  swinke, 
But  by  my  fay,  I  tolde  of  it  no  store : 
They  had  me  yeven  hir  lond  and  hir  tresore, 
Me  neded  not  do  lenger  diligence 
To  win  hir  love,  or  don  hem  reverence. 
They  loved  me  so  wel  by  God  above, 
That  I  ne  tolde  no  deintee  of-  hir  love. 
A  wise  woman  wol  besie3  hire  ever  in  on 
To  geten  hir  love,  ther  as  she  hath  non. 
But  sith  I  had  hem  holly  in  min  hond, 
And  that  they  hadde  yeven  me  all  hir  lond, 
What  shuld  I  taken  kepe  hem  for  to  plese, 
But  it  were  for  my  profit,  or  min  ese? 
I  set  hem  so  a-werke  by  my  fay, 
That  many  a  night  they  songen  wala  wa. 
The  bacon  was  not  fet  for  hem,  I  trow, 
That  som  men  have  in  Essex  at  Donmow.4 
I  governed  hem  so  wel  after  my  lawe, 
That  eche  of  hem  ful  blisful  was  and  fawe5 
To  bringen  me  gay  thinges  fro  the  feyre. 
They  were  ful  glade  whan  I  spake  hem  fayre,8 
For  God  it  wot,  I  chidde  hem  spitously. 
Now  herkeneth  how  I  bare  me  proprely. 

Ye  wise  wives,  that  can  understond, 
Thus  shul  ye  speke,  and  bere  hem  wrong  on  hond, 
For  half  so  boldely  can  thei  no  man 
Sweren  and  lien  as  a  woman  can. 
(I  say  not  this  by  wives  that  ben  wise, 
But  if  it  be  whan  they  hem  misavise.) 
A  wise  wif  if  that  she  can7  hire  good, 
Shal  beren  hem  on  hond  the  cow  is  wood,' 

1  Par  dieux.  2  Set  no  value  upon.  8  Busy. 

4  See  Blount's  Ant.  Tenure*,  p.  162,  and  P.  P.  446.  This  whimsical 
institution  was  not  peculiar  to  Dunmow.  There  was  the  same  in 
Bretagne.  "  A  l'Abbaie  Sainct  Melaine,  pres  Rennes,  y  a,  plus  de  six 
cens  ans  sont,  un  coste  de  lard  encore  tout  frais  et  non  corrompu ;  et 
neantmoins  voue  et  ordonne  aux  premiers,  qui  par  an  et  jour  ensemble 
mariez  ont  vescu  san  debat,  grondemeot,  et  sans  s'en  repentir." — Contet 
d'Eutrap.  t.  ii.  p.  161. — Tyrwhitt.  See  Brand's  Antiquities,  v.  13, 
p.  177,  sqq. 

6  Was  fain,  glad.  «  Fair.  7  Know. 

8  Shall  make  tliem  believe  falsely,  the  cow  is  wood.  The  latter  words, 
may  either  signify  that  the  cow  is  mad,  or  made  of  wood.    Which  of  the 


5815-5850.      THE  WIF  OP  BATHES  PROLOGUE.  163 

And  taken  witnesse  of  hire  owen  mayd 
Of  hir  assent :  but  herkeneth  how  I  sayd. 

Sire  olde  kaynard,1  is  this  thin  aray  ? 
Why  is  my  neigheboures  wif  so  gay  ? 
She  is  honoured  over  al  wher  she  goth, 
I  sit  at  home,  I  have  no  thrifty  cloth. 
What  dost  thou  at  my  neigheboures  hous  ? 
Is  she  so  faire  1  art  thou  so  amorous  ? 
What  rownest8  thou  with  our  maide  ?  benedicitet 
Sire  olde  lechour,  let  thy  japes  be. 

And  if  I  have  a  gossib,  or  a  frend, 
(Withouten  gilt)  thou  chidest  as  a  fend,8 
If  that  I  walke  or  play  unto  his  hous. 

Thou  comest  home  as  dronken  as  a  mous, 
And  prechest  on  thy  benche,  with  evil  prefe:4 
Thou  sayst  to  me,  it  is  a  gret  meschiefe 
To  wed  a  poure  woman,  for  costage:5 
And  if  that  she  be  riche  of  high  parage,6 
Than  sayst  thou,  that  it  is  a  tourmentrie 
To  soffre  hire  pride  and  hire  melancolie. 
A.nd  if  that  she  be  faire,  thou  veray  knave, 
Thou  sayst  that  every  holour7  wol  hire  have. 
She  may  no  while  in  chastitee  abide, 
That  is  assailled  upon  every  side. 
Thou  sayst  som  folk  desire  us  for  richesse, 
Som  for  our  shape,  and  som  for  our  fairnesse, 
And  som,  for  she  can  other8  sing  or  dance, 
And  som  for  gentillesse  and  daliance, 
Som  for  hire  hondes  and  hire  armes  smale: 
Thus  goth  all  to  the  devil  by  thy  tale. 
Thou  sayst,  men  may  not  kepe  a  castel  wal, 
It  may  so  long  assailled  be  over  aL 
And  if  that  she  be  foul,  thou  sayst,  that  she 
Coveteth  every  man  that  she  may  see ; 
For  as  a  spaniel,  she  wol  on  him  lepe, 
Til  she  may  linden  som  man  hire  to  chepe. 

two  is  the  preferable  interpretation,  it  will  be  safest  not  to  determine 
till  we  can  discover  the  old  story  to  which  this  phrase  seems  to  be  a 
proverbial  allusion. 

'  Rascal,  probably  derived  from  canit.  *  Whisperest. 

3  Fiend. 

*  J.  e.,  May  it  prove  evil  to  thee ! — a  sort  of  parenthetical  curse. 

s  Kx  K-nse.  6  Kindred. 

7  D,  (uuchee.  8  Either. 


164  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  5851-5890. 

Ne  non  so  grey  goos  goth  ther  in  the  lake, 
(As  sayst  thou)  that  wol  ben  withoute  a  make. 
And  sayst,  it  is  an  hard  thing  for  to  welde1 
A  thing,  that  no  man  wol,  his  thankes,  helde. 

Thus  sayst  thou,  lorel,2  whan  thou  gost  to  bed, 
And  that  no  wise  man  nedeth  for  to  wed, 
Ne  no  man  that  entendeth  unto  heven. 
With  wilde  thonder  dint3  and  firy  leven 
Mote  thy  welked4  nekke  be  to-broke. 

Thou  sayst,  that  dropping  houses,  and  eke  smoke 
And  chiding  wives  maken  men  to  flee 
Out  of  hir  owen  hous;  a,  benedicite, 
What  aileth  swiche  an  old  man  for  to  chide  1 

Thou  sayst,  we  wives  wol  our  vices  hide, 
Til  we  be  last,  and  than  we  wol  hem  shewe. 
Wei  may  that  be  a  proverbe  of  a  shrewe. 

Thou  sayst,  that  oxen,  asses,  hors,  and  houndes, 
They  ben  assaied  at  diverse  stoundes,5 
Basines,  lavoures,6  or  that  men  hem  bie, 
Spones,  stooles,  and  all  swiche  husbondrie, 
And  so  ben  pottes,  clothes,  and  aray, 
But  folk  of  wives  maken  non  assay, 
Til  they  ben  wedded,  olde  dotard  shrewe ! 
And  than,  sayst  thou,  we  wol  our  vices  shewe. 

Thou  sayst  also,  that  it  displeseth  me, 
But  if  that  thou  wolt  preisen  my  beautee,' 
And  but  thou  pore  alway  upon  my  face, 
And  clepe  me  faire  dame  in  every  place ; 
And  but  thou  make  a  feste  on  thilke  day 
That  I  was  borne,  and  make  me  fresh  and  gayj 
And  but  thou  do  to  my  norice7  honour, 
And  to  my  chamberere*  within  my  bour,' 
And  to  my  faders  folk,  and  myn  allies; 
Thus  sayst  thou,  olde  barel  ful  of  lies. 

And  yet  also  of  our  prentis  Jankin, 
For  his  crispe  here,  shining  as  gold  so  fin, 
And  for  he  squiereth  me  both  up  and  doun, 
Yet  hast  thou  caught  a  false  suspection : 
I  wol  him  nat,  though  thou  were  ded  to-morwe. 

But  tell  me  this,  why  hidest  thou  with  sorwe 

1  Govern.  '  Scamp,  good-for-nought,  3  Stroke. 

4  Rotten.  5  Times,  seasons.  6  Lavers. 

Nurse.  8  Chambermaid.  9  House. 


5891-5926.      THE  WIF  OP  BATHES   PROLOGUE.  165 

The  keies  of  thy  chest  away  fro  me  ? 
It  is  my  good'  as  wel  as  thin  parde.2 
What,  wenest  thou  make  an  idiot  of  our  dame  1 
Now  by  that  Lord  that  cleped  is  Seint  Jame, 
Thou  shalt  nat  bothe,  though  that  thou  were  wood,8 
Be  maister  of  my  body  and  of  my  good, 
That  on  thou  shalt  forgo  maugre^  thin  eyen. 
What  helpeth  ot  me  to  enquere  and  spien  ? 
I  trow  thou  woldest  locke  me  in  thy  cheste. 
Thou  shuldest  say,  Fayr  wif,  go  wher  thee  leste  f 
Take  your  disport;  I  wol  not  leve  no  tales; 
I  know  you  for  a  trewe  wif,  dame  Ales. 

We  love  no  man,  that  taketh  kepe6  or  charge 
Wher  that  we  gon,  we  wol  be  at  our  large. 
Of  alle  men  yblessed  mote  he  be 
The  wise  astrologien  Dan7  Ptholomee, 
That  sayth  this  proverbe  in  his  Almageste: 
Oi  alle  men  his  wisdom  is  higheste, 
That  rekketh  not  who  hath  the  world  in  hond. 
By  this  proverbe  thou  shalt  wel  understond, 
Have  thou  ynough,  what  thar  thee  rekke  or  care 
How  merily  that  other  folkes  fare  ? 
For  certes,  olde  dotard,  by  your  leve, 
Ye  shullen  have  queint  right  ynough  at  eve. 
He  is  to  gret  a  nigard  that  wol  werne3 
A  man  to  light  a  candel  at  his  lanterne ; 
He  shal  have  never  the  lesse  light  parde. 
Have  thou  ynough,  thee  thar  non  plainen  thee. 

Thou  sayst  also,  if  that  we  make  us  gay 
With  clothing  and  with  precious  array, 
That  it  is  peril  of  our  chastitee. 
And  yet,  with  sorwe,  thou  enforcest  thee, 
And  sayst  thise  wordes  in  the  apostles  name: 
In  habit  made  with  chastitee  and  shame 
Ye  women  shul  appareile  you,  (quod  he) ; 
And  nat  in  tressed  here,9  and  gay  perrie,10 

1  Goods,  property.  2  par  dieux. 

8  Mad.  4  Despite.  8  It  pleaseth  thee. 

•  Care.  7  Lord. 

8  Wnme  here  seems  to  mean  "refuse."    This  sense  is  borne  out,  I 
think,  by  a  passage  ot  Ennius  in  Cicero  de  Off.  1.  i. : 
"  Homo,  qui  erranti  comiter  monstrat  viam. 
Quasi  de  suo  lumine  lumen  accendat,  facit. 
Nihilominus  ut  ipsi  luceat,  quivis  illi  accenderit." 
which  passage  Chaucer  appears  to  have  had  in  mind. — Eo. 

»  Have  gathered  into  tresses.  I0  Jewellery. 


166  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  5927-5966. 

As  perles,  ne  with  gold,  ne  clothes  riche. 

After  thy  text,  ne  after  thy  rubriche 
I  wol  not  work  as  mochel  as  a  gnat. 

Thou  sayst  also,  I  walke  out  like  a  cat; 
For  who  so  wolde  senge  the  cattes  skin, 
Than  wol  the  cat  wel  dwellen  in  hire  in ; 
And  if  the  cattes  skin  be  sleke  and  gay, 
She  wol  nat  dwellen  in  hous  half  a  day, 
But  forth  she  wol,  or  any  day  be  dawed, 
To  shew  hire  skin,  and  gon  a  caterwawed.1 
This  is  to  say,  if  I  be  gay,  sire  shrewe, 
I  wol  renne  out,  my  borel2  for  to  shewe. 
Sire  olde  fool,  what  helpeth  thee  to  spien  1 
Though  thou  pray  Argus  with  his  hundred  eyen 
To  be  my  wardecorps,3  as  he  can  best, 
In  faith  he  shal  not  kepe  me  but  me  lest  :4 
Yet  coude  I  make  his  berd,  so  mote  I  the.5 

Thou  sayest  eke,  that  ther  ben  thinges  three, 
Which  thinges  gretly  troublen  all  this  erthe, 
And  that  no  wight  ne  may  endure  the  ferthe  :6 
O  lefe  sire  shrewe,  Jesu  short  thy  lif. 

Yet  prechest  thou,  and  sayst,  an  hateful  wif 
Yrekened  is  for  on  of  thise  meschances. 
Be  ther  non  other  maner  resemblances 
That  ye  may  liken  your  parables  to, 
But  if  a  sely7  wif  be  on  of  tho  ? 

Thou  likenest  eke  womans  love  to  helle, 
To  barrein  lond,  ther  water  may  not  dwelle. 

Thou  likenest  it  also  to  wilde  fire ; 
The  more  it  brenneth,  the  more  it  hath  desire 
To  consume  every  thing,  that  brent  wol  be. 

Thou  sayest,  right  as  wormes  shende8  a  tre, 
Bight  so  a  wif  destroieth  hire  husbond ; 
This  knowen  they  that  ben  to  wives  bond. 

Lordings,  right  thus,  as  ye  han  understand, 
Bare  I  stifly  min  old  husbondes  on  hond, 
That  thus  they  saiden  in  hir  dronkennesse ; 
And  all  was  false,  but  as  I  toke  witnesse 
On  Jankin,  and  upon  my  nece  also. 
O  Lord,  the  peine  I  did  hem,  and  the  wo, 

*  A  caterwauling. 

3  Borel  here  means  clothing  in  general ;  elsewhere  it  is  used  for  a 
coarse  brown  cloth.  3  Body-guard. 

*  Except  I  be  willing.  8  So  may  I  thrive. 
6  Fourth.                         ^  Silly.                         «  Destroy. 


6967-6006.     THE  WIP  OP  BATHES  PROLOGUE.  167 

Ful  gilteles,  by  Goddes  swete  pine  ;' 
For  as  an  hors,  I  coude  bite  and  whine; 
I  coude  plain,  and  I  was  in  the  gilt, 
Or  elles  oftentime  I  had  ben  spilt. 
Who  so  first  cometh  to  the  mill,  first  grint; 
I  plained  first,  so  was  our  werre  ystint.2 
They  were  ful  glad  to  excusen  hem  ful  blive3 
Of  thing,  the  which  they  never  agilt  hir  live4 
Of  wenches  wold  I  beren  hem  on  hond,5 
Whan  that  for  sike6  unnethes  might  they  stond, 
Yet  tikeled  I  his  herte  for  that  he 
Wend  that  I  had  of  him  so  gret  chiertee  :7 
I  swore  that  all  my  walking  out  by  night 
Was  for  to  espien  wenches  that  he  dight  :8 
Under  that  colour  had  I  many  a  mirth. 
For  all  swiche  wit  is  yeven  us  in  our  birth; 
Deceite,  weping,  spinning,  God  hath  yeven 
To  women  kindly,  while  that  they  may  liven. 
And  thus  of  o  thing  I  may  avaunten  me, 
At  th'ende  I  had  the  beter  in  eche  degree, 
By  sleight  or  force,  or  by  som  maner  thing, 
As  by  continual  murmur  or  grutchiug, 
Namely  a-bed,  ther  hadden  they  meschance, 
Ther  wold  I  chide,  and  don  hem  no  plesance 
I  wold  no  lenger  in  the  bed  abide, 
If  that  I  felt  his  arme  over  my  side, 
Til  he  had  made  his  raunson  unto  me, 
Than  wold  I  soffre  him  do  his  nicetee. 
And  therfore  every  man  this  tale  I  tell, 
Winne  who  so  may,  for  all  is  for  to  sell: 
With  empty  hond  men  may  no  haukes  lure, 
For  winning  wold  I  all  his  lust  endure, 
And  maken  me  a  feined  appetit, 
And  yet  in  bacon  had  I  never  delit: 
That  maked  me  that  ever  I  wold  hem  chide. 
For  though  the  pope  had  sitten  hem  beside, 
I  wold  not  spare  hem  at  hir  owen  bord, 
For  by  my  trouthe  I  quitte  hem  word  for  word. 
As  helpe  me  veray  God  omnipotent, 
Tho  I  right  now  shuld  make  my  testament, 

'  Sufferings.  8  Battle  stopped.  3  Eeadily. 

«  Sinned,  offended.  s  Blame  them  falsely. 

6  Sickness.  7  Affection.  8  Dressed. 


168  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  6007-6048. 

I  ne  owe  hem  not  a  word,  that  it  n'is  quit, 
I  brought  it  so  abouten  by  my  wit, 
That  they  must  yeve  it  up,  as  tor  the  best> 
Or  elles  had  we  never  ben  in  rest. 
For  though  he  loked  as  a  wood  leon, 
Yet  shuld  he  faille  of  his  conclusion. 

Than  wold  I  say,  now  goode  lefe,  take  kepe. 
How  mekely  loketh  Wilkin  oure  shepe ! 
Come  ner  my  spouse,  and  let  me  ba1  thy  cheke. 
Ye  shulden  be  al  patient  and  meke, 
And  han  a  swete  spiced  conscience, 
Sith  ye  so  preche  of  Jobes  patience. 
Suffreth  alway,  sin  ye  so  wel  can  preche, 
And  but  ye  do,  certain  we  shal  you  teche 
That  it  is  faire  to  han  a  wif  in  pees. 
On  of  us  two  moste  bowen  doutelees : 
And,  sith  a  man  is  more  resonable 
Than  woman  is,  ye  mosten  ben  suffrable. 
What  aileth  you  to  grutchen  thus  and  grone  t 
Is  it  for  ye  wold  have  my  queint  alone  t 
Why  take  it  all :  lo,  have  it  every  del. 
Peter,  I  shrew  you  but  ye  love  it  weL 
For  if  I  wolde  sell  my  belle  chose, 
I  coude  walke  as  freshe  as  is  a  rose, 
But  I  wol  kepe  it  for  your  owen  toth. 
Ye  be  to  blame,  by  God,  I  say  you  soth. 

Swiche  manei  wordes  hadden  we  on  hond. 
Now  wol  I  speken  oi  my  fourthe  husbond. 

My  fourthe  husbonde  was  a  revellour, 
This  is  to  sayn,  he  had  a  paramour, 
And  I  was  yonge  and  ful  of  ragerie,3 
Stibborne  and  strong,  and  joly  as  a  pie. 
Tho  coude  I  dancen  to  an  harpe  smale, 
And  sing  ywis  as  any  nightingale, 
Whan  I  had  dronke  a  draught  of  swete  wine. 
Metellius,3  the  foule  cherle,  the  swine, 
That  with  a  staf  beraft  his  wif  hire  lif 
For  she  drank  wine,  though  T  had  ben  his  wif, 
Ne  shuld  he  not  have  daunted  me  fro  drinke: 
And  after  wine  of  Venus  most  I  thinke. 
For  al  so  siker4  as  cold  engendreth  hayl, 
A  likerous  mouth  most  han  a  likerous  tayL 

i  Kiss.  2  Wantonness. 

3  See  Valer.  Maximus,  vi.  3.  *  Sore,  certain. 


6049-6088.      THE  WIP  OF  BATHES   PROLOGUE.  169 

In  woman  vinolent1  is  no  defence, 
This  knowen  lechours  by  experience. 

But,  lord  Crist,  whan  that  it  remembreth  mo 
Upon  my  youth,  and  on  my  jolitee, 
It  tikleth  me  about  myn  herte-rote. 
Unto  this  day  it  doth  myn  herte  bote,3 
That  I  have  had  my  world  as  in  my  time. 
But  age,  alas!  that  all  wol  envenime,3 
Hath  me  beraft  my  beautee  and  my  pith  ;4 
Let  go,  farewel,  the  devil  go  therwith. 
The  flour  is  gon,  there  n'is  no  more  to  tell, 
The  bren,  as  I  best  may,  now  moste  I  selL 
But  yet  to  be  right  mery  wol  I  fond. 
Now  forth  to  teflen  of  my  fourthe  husbond. 

I  say,  I  had  in  herte  gret  despit, 
That  he  of  any  other  had  delit ; 
But  he  was  quit  by  God  and  by  Seint  Joce  :• 
I  made  him  of  the  same  wood  a  croce, 
Not  of  my  body  in  no  foule  manere, 
But  certainly  I  made  folk  swiche  chere, 
That  in  his  owen  grese  I  made  him  frie 
For  anger,  and  for  veray  jalousie. 
By  God.  in  erth  I  was  his  purgatorie, 
For  which  I  hope  his  soule  be  in  glorie. 
For,  God  it  wote,  he  sate  ful  oft  and  songe, 
Whan  that  his  sho  ful  bitterly  him  wronge. 
Ther  was  no  wight,  save  God  and  he,  that  wiste 
In  many  a  wise  how  sore  that  I  him  twiste. 
He  died  whan  I  come  fro  Jerusalem, 
And  lith  ygrave  under  the  rode-beem;9 
All  is  his  tombe  not  so  curious 
As  was  the  sepulcre  of  him  Darius, 
Which  that  Appelles  wrought  so  sotelly. 
It  is  but  wast  to  bury  hem  preciously. 
Let  him  farewel,  God  give  his  soule  rest, 
He  is  now  in  his  grave  and  in  his  chest. 

Now  of  my  fifthe  husbonde  wol  I  telle: 
God  let  his  soule  never  come  in  helle. 
And  yet  was  he  to  me  the  moste  shrew, 
That  tele  I  on  my  ribbes  all  by  rew, 

1  Full  of  wine.  a  Benefit,  delight 

•  Embitter.  *  Strength. 

5  Jodocus,  a  saint  of  Fonthiess.  '  Cross 
15 


170  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  6089-6130. 

And  ever  shal,  unto  min  ending  day. 
But  in  our  bed  he  was  so  fresh  and  gay, 
And  therwithal  he  coude  so  wel  me  glose, 
Whan  that  he  wolde  han  my  belle  chose, 
That,  though  he  had  me  bet  on  every  bon, 
He  coude  win  agen  my  love  anon. 
I  trow,  I  love  him  the  bet,  for  he 
Was  of  his  love  so  dangerous  to  me. 
We  wimmen  han,  if  that  I  shal  not  lie, 
In  this  mature  a  queinte  fantasie. 
Waite,1  what  thing  we  may  nat  lightly  have, 
Therafter  wol  we  cry  all  day  and  crave. 
Forbede  us  thing,  and  that  desiren  we ; 
Prese  on  us  fast,  and  thanne  wol  we  flee. 
With  danger  uttren  we  all  our  chaffare; 
Gret  prees  at  market  maketh  dere  ware, 
And  to  gret  chepe  is  holden  at  litel  prise ; 
This  knoweth  every  woman  that  is  wise. 

My  fifthe  husbonde,  God  his  soule  blesse, 
Which  that  I  toke  for  love  and  no  richesse, 
He  somtime  was  a  clerk  of  Oxenforde, 
And  had  left  scole,  and  went  at  home  at  borde 
With  my  gossib,  dwelling  in  oure  toun: 
God  have  hire  soule,  hire  name  was  Alisoun. 
She  knew  my  herte  and  all  my  privetee, 
Bet  than  our  parish  preest,  so  mote  I  the.2 
To  hire  hewned*  I  my  conseil  all ; 
For  had  my  husbond  pissed  on  a  wall. 
Or  don  a  thing  that  shuld  have  cost  his  lif, 
To  hire,  and  to  another  worthy  wif, 
And  to  my  nece,  which  that  I  loved  wel, 
I  wold  have  told  his  conseil  every  del. 
And  so  I  did  ful  often,  God  it  wote, 
That  made  his  face  ful  often  red  and  hote 
For  veray  shame,  and  blamed  himself,  for  he 
Had  told  to  me  so  gret  a  privetee. 

And  so  befell  that  ones  in  a  Lent, 
(So  often  times  I  to  my  gossib  went, 
For  ever  yet  I  loved  to  be  gay, 
And  for  to  walke  in  March,  April,  and  May 
From  hous  to  hous,  to  heren  sondry  tales) 
That  Jankin  clerk,  and  my  gossib  dame  Ales, 

>  Watch  after.  :  So  may  I  thrive.  *  Disclosed. 


6131-6172.      THE  WIP  OP  BATHES  PROLOGUE.  171 

And  I  myself,  into  the  feldes  went. 

Myn  husbond  was  at  London  all  that  Lent; 

I  had  the  better  leiser  for  to  pleie, 

And  for  to  see,  and  eke  for  to  be  seie 

Of  lusty  folk ;  what  wist  I  wher  my  grace 

Was  shapen  for  to  be,  or  in  what  place  % 

Therfore  made  I  my  visitations 

To  vigilies,  and  to  processions, 

To  prechings  eke,  and  to  thise  pilgrimages, 

To  playes  of  miracles,  and  manages, 

And  wered  upon  my  gay  skarlet  gites.1 

Thise  wormes,  ne  thise  mothes,  ne  thise  mites 

Upon  my  paraille  frett  hem  never  a  del, 

And  wost  thou  why?  for  they  were  used  weL 

Now  wol  I  tellen  forth  what  happed  me 
I  say,  that  in  the  feldes  walked  we, 
Till  trewely  we  had  swiche  daliance 
This  clerk  and  I,  that  of  my  purveance 
I  spake  to  him,  and  said  him  how  that  he, 
If  I  were  widewe,  shulde  wedden  me. 
For  certainly,  I  say  for  no  bobance,3 
Yet  was  I  never  without  purveance 
Of  mariage,  ne  of  other  thinges  eke ; 
I  hold  a  mouses  wit  not  worth  a  leke, 
That  hath  but  on  hole  for  to  sterten  to, 
And  if  that  faille,  than  is  all  ydo. 

I  bare  him  on  hond3  he  had  enchanted  me; 
(My  dame  taughte  me  that  subtiltee) 
And  eke  I  sayd,  I  mette4  of  him  all  night, 
He  wold  han  slain  me,  as  I  lay  upright, 
And  all  my  bed  was  full  of  veray  blood ; 
But  yet  I  hope  that  ye  shuln  do  me  good: 
For  blood  betokeneth  gold,  as  me  was  taught. 
And  al  was  false,  I  dremed  of  him  right  naught, 
But  as  I  folwed  ay  my  dames  lore,5 
As  wel  of  that  as  of  other  thinges  more. 

But  now,  sire,  let  me  see,  what  shall  I  sain  ? 
A  ha,  by  God  I  have  my  tale  again. 
Whan  that  my  fourthe  husbonde  was  on  bere 
I  wept  algate6  and  made  a  sory  chere, 
As  wives  moten,  for  it  is  the  usage ; 
And  with  my  coverchefe  covered  my  visage; 

1  Gowns.  2  Boasting.  *  I  made  him  believe. 

4  Dreamed.  *  Counsel,  opinion.  •  Always. 


172  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  G173-6214. 

But,  for  that  I  was  purveyed  of  a  make,1 

I  wept  but  smal,  and  that  I  undertake. 

To  chirche  was  myn  husbond  born  a-morwe 

With  neigheboures  that  for  him  maden  sorwe, 

And  Jankin  oure  clerk  was  on  of  tho: 

As  helpe  me  God,  whan  that  I  saw  him  go 

After  the  bere,  me  thought  he  had  a  paira 

Of  legges  and  of  feet,  so  clene  and  faire, 

That  all  my  herte  I  yave  unto  his  hold. 

He  was,  I  trow,  a  twenty  winter  old, 

And  I  was  fourty,  if  I  shal  say  soth, 

But  yet  I  had  alway  a  coltes  toth. 

Gat-tothed2 1  was,  and  that  became  me  wele, 

I  had  the  print  of  Seinte  Venus  sele. 

As  helpe  me  God,  I  was  a  lusty  on, 

And  faire,  and  riche,  and  yonge,  and  wel  begon: 

And  trewely,  as  min  husbondes  tolden  me, 

I  had  the  beste  queint  that  mighte  be. 

For  certes  I  am  all  venerian 

In  feling,  and  my  herte  is  marcian: 

Venus  me  yave  my  lust  and  likerousnesse, 

And  Mars  yave  me  my  sturdy  hardinesse. 

Min  ascendent  was  Taure,  and  Mars  therinne: 

Alas,  alas,  that  ever  love  was  sinne ! 

I  folwed  ay  min  inclination 

By  vertue  of  my  constellation: 

That  made  me  that  I  coude  nat  withdraw 

My  chambre  of  Venus  from  a  good  felaw. 

Yet  have  I  Martes  merke  upon  my  face, 

And  also  in  another  privee  place. 

For  God  so  wisly  be  my  salvation, 

I  loved  never  by  no  discretion, 

But  ever  folwed  min  appetit, 

All  were  he  shorte,  longe,  blake,  or  white, 

I  toke  no  kepe,  so  that  he  liked  me, 

How  poure  he  was,  ne  eke  of  what  degree. 

What  shuld  I  saye?  but  at  the  monthes  ende 
This  joly  clerk  Jankin,  that  was  so  hende,3 
Hath  wedded  me  with  gret  solempnitee. 
And  to  him  yave  I  all  the  lond  and  fee, 
That  ever  was  me  yeven  therbefore: 
But  afterward  repented  me  full  sore. 

1  Provided  with  8  mate.  2  Cf.  vs.  470.  »  Courteous. 


6215-6252.      THE  WIP  OP  BATHES  PROLOGUE.  173 

He  n'olde1  suffre  nothing  of  my  list. 
By  God  he  smote  me  ones  with  his  fist, 
For  that  I  rent  out  of  his  boke  a  lefe, 
That  of  the  stroke  myn  ere  wex  al  defe, 
Stibborne  I  was,  as  is  a  leonesse, 
And  of  my  tonge  a  veray  jangleresse, 
And  walke  I  wold,  as  I  had  don  beforn, 
Fro  hous  to  hous,  although  he  had  it  sworn: 
For  which  he  oftentimes  wolde  preche, 
And  me  of  olde  Romaine  gestes  teche. 

How  he  Sulpitius  Gallus  left  his  wif, 
And  hire  forsoke  for  terme  of  all  his  lif, 
Not  but  for  open-heded  he  hire  say* 
Loking  out  at  his  dore  upon  a  day. 

Another  Romaine3  told  he  me  by  name, 
That,  for  his  wif  was  at  a  sommer  game 
Without  his  weting,  he  forsoke  hire  eke. 

And  than  wold  he  upon  his  Bible  seke 
That  ilke  proverbe  of  Ecclesiaste, 
Wher  he  commandeth,  and  forbedeth  faste, 
Man  shal  not  suffer  his  wif  go  roule4  aboute. 

Than  wold  he  say  right  thus  withouteu  doute: 
Who  so  that  bildeth  his  hous  all  of  salwes,5 
And  pricketh  his  blind  hors  over  the  ialwes,8 
And  suflereth  his  wif  to  go  seken  halwes,7 
Is  worthy  to  be  honged  on  the  galwes. 

But  all  for  nought,  I  sette  not  an  hawe9 
Of  his  proverbes,  ne  of  his  old  sawe; 
Ne  I  wold  not  of  him  corrected  be. 
I  hate  hem  that  my  vices  tellen  me, 
And  so  do  mo  of  us  (God  wote)  than  I. 
This  made  him  wood9  with  me  all  utterly ; 
I  n'  olde  not  forbere  him  in  no  cas. 

Now  wol  I  say  you  soth  by  Scint  Thoma3, 
Why  that  I  rent  out  of  his  book  a  lefe, 
For  which  he  smote  me,  so  that  I  was  defe. 

He  had  a  book,  that  gladly  night  and  day 
For  his  disport  he  wolde  it  rede  alway, 

>  Would  not.  2  See  Valer.  Max.  \i.  8. 

8  Sempronius  Sophus,  from  the  same  authority.  4  Ramble. 

*  Willows.    See  Richardson,  v.  "sallow." 

«  Fallows.  1  To  run  after. 

»  A  hawthorn  berry.  •  Mad. 

15* 


174  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  6253-6290. 

He  cleped  it  Valerie,1  and  Theophrast,2 
And  with  that  book  he  lough3  alway  ful  fast. 
And  eke  ther  was  a  clerk  somtime  at  Rome, 
A  cardinal,  that  highte  Seint  Jerome, 
That  made  a  book  again  Jovinian, 
Which  book  was  ther,  and  eke  Tertullian, 
Crisippus,  Trotula,4  and  Helowis,5 
That  was  abbesse  not  fer  fro  Paris; 
And  eke  the  paraboles  of  Salomon, 
Ovides  art,  and  bourdes6  many  on ; 
And  alle  thise  were  bonden  in  o  volume. 
And  every  night  and  day  was  his  custumo 
(Whan  he  had  leiser  and  vacation 
From  other  worldly  occupation) 
To  reden  in  this  book  of  wikked  wives. 
He  knew  of  hem  mo  legendes  and  mo  lives, 
Than  ben  of  goode  wives  in  the  Bible. 
For  trusteth  wel,  it  is  an  impossible, 
That  any  clerk  wol  speken  good  of  wives, 
(But  if  it  be  of  holy  seintes  lives) 
Ne  of  non  other  woman  never  the  mo. 
Who  peinted  the  leon,  telle th  me,  who? 
By  God,  if  wimmen  hadden  written  stories, 
As  clerkes  han,  within  hir  oratories, 
They  wold  have  writ  of  men  more  wikkednesse, 
Than  all  the  merke  of  Adam7  may  redresse. 
The  children  of  Mercury  and  of  Venus 
Ben  in  hir  werking  ful  contrarious. 
Mercury  loveth  wisdom  and  science, 
And  Venus  loveth  riot  and  dispence. 
And  for  hir  divers  disposition, 
Eche  falleth  in  others  exaltation.8 
As  thus,  God  wote,  Mercury  is  desolat 
In  Pisces,  wher  Venus  is  exaltat, 
And  Venus  falleth  wher  Mercury  is  reised. 
Therfore  no  woman  of  no  clerk  is  preised. 
The  clerk  whan  he  is  old,  and  may  nought  do 
Of  Venus  werkes  not  worth  his  old  sho, 
*  Valerius  de  non  ducendd  uxore,  sometimes  printed  with  the  works  of 
St.  Jerome. 

2  Theophrastus  de  nuptiit,  quoted  by  Hieronymus  contra  Jovinianum. 

3  Laughed.  4  A  medical  writer.  s  The  Epistles  of  Heloise. 
8  Jests.                  7  All  the  images  of  Adam,  i.  e.,  all  mankind. 

8  The  exaltation  of  a  planet  anciently  meant  that  it  was  in  that  sign 
of  the  Zodiac,  where  it  exerted  its  greatest  influence. 


6201-G330.      THE  WIP  OP  BATHES   PROLOGUE.  175 

Than  siteth  he  doun,  and  writeth  in  his  dotage, 
That  wimmen  cannot  kepe  hir  mariage. 
But  now  to  purpos,  why  I  tolde  thee, 
That  I  was  beten  for  a  book  parde. 

Upon  a  night  Jankin,  that  was  our  sire, 
Bed  on  his  book,  as  he  sate  by  the  fire,  * 

Of  Eva  first,  that  for  hire  wikkednesse 
Was  all  mankinde  brought  to  wretchednesse, 
For  which  that  Jesu  Crist  himself  was  slain, 
That  bought  us  with  his  herte-blood  again. 

Lo  here  expresse  of  wimmen  may  ye  find, 
That  woman  was  the  losse  of  all  mankind. 

Tho  redde  he  me  how  Sampson  lost  his  heres 
Sleping,  his  lemman  kitte1  hem  with  hire  sheres, 
Thurgh  whiche  treson  lost  he  both  his  eyen. 

Tho  redde  he  me,  if  that  I  shal  not  lien, 
Of  Hercules,  and  of  his  Deianire, 
That  caused  him  to  set  himself  a-fire. 

Nothing  forgat  he  the  care  and  the  wo, 
That  Socrates  had  with  his  wives  two ; 
How  Xantippa  cast  pisse  upon  his  hed. 
This  sely  man  sat  still,  as  he  were  ded, 
He  wiped  bis  hed,  no  more  dorst  he  sain, 
But,  er  the  thonder  stint2  ther  cometh  rain. 

Of  Pasiphae,  that  was  the  quene  of  Crete, 
For  shrewednesse  him  thought  the  tale  swete. 
Fie,  speke  no  more  (it  is  a  grisely  thing) 
Of  hire  horrible  lust  and  hire  liking. 

Of  Clitemnestra  for  hire  lecherie 
That  falsely  made  hire  husbond  for  to  die, 
He  redde  it  with  ful  good  devotion. 

He  told  me  eke,  for  what  occasion 
Amphiorax3  at  Thebes  lost  his  lif : 
My  husbond  had  a  legend  of  his  wif 
Eriphile,  that  for  an  ouche  of  gold 
Hath  prively  unto  the  Grekes  told, 
Wher  that  hire  husbond  hidde  him  in  a  place, 
For  which  he  had  at  Thebes  sory  grace. 

Of  Lima  told  he  me,  and  of  Lucie  :4 
They  bothe  made  hir  husbondes  for  to  die, 

*  Cot.  3  Cease.  3  Amphiaratu. 

*  In  the  Epittola  Valerii,  &c.  MS.  Reg.  12.  D.  111.  the  story  is  told  thus : 
Luna  virum.  suam  interfecit  quern  nimis  odirit:  Lucilia  suum  quem 


176  THE  CAOTERBURY  TALES.  6331-6364 

That  on  for  love,  that  other  was  for  hate. 
Lima  hire  husbond  on  an  even  late 
Enpoysoneth  hath,  lor  that  she  was  his  fo: 
Lucia  likerous  loved  hire  husbond  so, 
That  for  he  shuld  alway  upon  hire  thinke, 
She  yave  him  swiche  a  maner  love-diinke, 
That  he  was  ded  er  it  were  by  the  morwe: 
And  thus  algates1  husbondes  hadden  sorwe. 

Than  told  he  me,  how  on  Latumeus2 
Complained  to  his  felaw  Arius, 
That  in  his  gardin  growed  swiche  a  tree, 
On  which  he  said  how  that  his  wives  three 
Honged  hemseli  for  hertes  despitous. 
O  leve  brother,  quod  this  Arius, 
Yeve  me  a  plant  of  thilke  blessed  tree, 
And  in  my  gardin  planted  shal  it  be. 

Of  later  date  of  wives  hath  he  redde, 
That  som  han  slain  hir  husbonds  in  hir  bedde, 
And  let  hir  lechour  dight  hem  all  the  night, 
While  that  the  corps  lay  in  the  fiore  upright: 
And  som  han  driven  nailes  in  hir  brain, 
While  that  they  slepe,  and  thus  they  han  hem  slain: 
Som  han  hem  yeven  poyson  in  hir  drink: 
He  spake  more  harm  than  herte  may  bethinke. 

And  therwithall  he  knew  of  mo  proverbes, 
Than  in  this  world  their  growen  gras  or  herbes. 

Bet  is3  (quod  he)  thin  habitation 
Be  with  a  leon,  or  a  foule  dragon, 
Than  with  a  woman  using  for  to  chide. 

Bet  is  (quod  he)  high  in  the  roof  abide, 
Than  with  an  angry  woman  doun  in  the  hous, 
They  ben  so  wikked  and  contrarious: 
They  haten,  that  hir  husbonds  loven  ay. 

He  sayd,  a  woman  cast  hire  shame  away,4 
Whan  she  cast  of  hire  smock ;  and  forthermo, 
A  faire  woman,  but  she  be  chast  also, 
Is  like  a  gold  ring  in  a  sowes  nose. 

Who  coude  wene,  or  who  coude  suppose 

nimis  amavit.  Ilia  sponte  miscuit  aconita :  haec  decepta  furorem  pro- 
pinavit  pro  anions  poculo.  Lima  and  Luna  in  many  MSS.  are  only 
distinguishable  by  a  email  stroke  over  the  »',  which  may  be  easily  over- 
looked where  it  is,  and  supposed  where  it  is  not. — Tyrwhitt. 

1  Always.  s  These  names  are  probably  corrupt. 

3  Better  it  is.  4  A  sentiment  of  Herodotus,  lib.  1,  tub  init. 


G309-0410.      THE  WIP  OP  BATHES  PROLOGUE.  177 

The  wo  that  in  min  herte  was,  and  the  pine  t 
And  whan  I  saw  he  n'olde  never  fine1 
To  reden  on  this  cursed  book  all  night, 
Al  sodenly  three  leves  have  I  plight2 
Out  of  his  book,  right  as  he  redde,  and  eke 
I  with  my  fist  so  toke  him  on  the  cheke, 
That  in  oure  fire  he  fell  bakward  adoun. 
And  he  up  sterte,  as  doth  a  wood  leoun, 
And  with  his  fist  he  smote  me  on  the  hed, 
That  in  the  flore  I  lay  as  I  were  ded. 
And  whan  he  saw  how  stille  that  I  lay, 
He  was  agast,  and  wold  have  fled  away, 
Til  at  the  last  out  of  my  swough3 1  brayde.* 
O,  hast  thou  slain  me,  false  theef  ?  Tsayde, 
And  for  my  lond  thus  hast  thou  mordred  me  ? 
Er  I  be  ded,  yet  wol  I  kissen  thee. 
And  nere  he  came,  and  kneled  faire  adoun, 
And  sayde  ;  dere  suster  Alisoun, 
As  helpe  me  God  I  shal  thee  never  smite: 
That  I  have  don  it  is  thyself  to  wite, 
Foryeve  it  me,  and  that  I  thee  beseke. 
And  yet  eftsones  I  hitte  him  on  the  cheke, 
And  sayde ;  theef,  thus  much  am  I  awreke.* 
Now  wol  I  die,  I  may  no  longer  speke. 

But  at  the  last,  with  mochel  care  and  wo 
We  fell  accorded  by  ourselven  two: 
He  yaf  me  all  the  bridel  in  min  hond 
To  han  the  governance  of  hous  and  lond, 
And  of  his  tonge,  and  of  his  hond  also, 
And  made  him  brenne  his  book  anon  right  tho. 

And  whan  that  I  had  getten  unto  me 
By  maistrie  all  the  soverainetee, 
And  that  he  sayd,  min  owen  trewe  wif, 
Do  as  thee  list,  the  terme  of  all  thy  lif, 
Kepe  thin  honour,  and  kepe  eke  min  estat; 
After  that  day  we  never  had  debat. 
God  helpe  me  so,  I  was  to  him  as  kinde, 
As  any  wif  fro  Denmark  unto  Inde, 
And  al  so  trewe,  and  so  was  he  to  me: 
I  pray  to  God  that  sit  in  majestee 
So  blisse  his  soule,  for  his  mercy  dere. 
Now  wol  I  say  my  tale  if  ye  wol  here. 

1  Cease.  2  Mucked.  8  Swoon. 

4  Awaked.  *  lievenged. 


178  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  641] -644*. 

The  frere1  lough  whan  he  had  herd  all  this; 
Now  dame,  quod  he,  so  have  I  joye  and  blis, 
This  is  a  long  preamble  of  a  tale. 

And  whan  the  Sompnour  herd  the  frere  gale,' 
Lo  (quod  this  Sompnour)  Goddes  armes  two, 
A  frere  wol  entermete3  him  evermo: 
Lo,  goode  men,  a  flie  and  eke  a  frere 
Wol  fall  in  every  dish  and  eke  matere. 
What  spekest  thou  of  preambulatioun  ? 
What?  amble  or  trot;  or  pees,  or  go  sit  doun: 
Thou  lettest  our  disport  in  this  matere. 

Ye,  wolt  thou  so,  Sire  Sompnour  ?  quod  the  frere  ; 
Now  by  my  faith  I  shal,  er  that  I  go, 
Tell  of  a  Sompnour  swiche  a  tale  or  two, 
That  all  the  folk  shal  laughen  in  this  place. 

Now  elles,  frere,  I  wol  beshrewe  thy  face, 
(Quod  this  Sompnour)  and  I  beshrewe  me, 
But  if  I  telle  tales  two  or  three 
Of  freres,  or  T  come  to  Sidenborne, 
That  I  shal  make  thin  herte  for  to  morne: 
For  wel  I  wot  thy  patience  is  gon. 

Our  hoste  cried ;  pees,  and  that  anon ; 
And  sayde ;  let  the  woman  tell  hire  tale. 
Ye  fare  as  folk  that  dronken  ben  of  ale. 
Do,  dame,  tell  forth  your  tale,  and  that  is  best. 

Al  redy,  sire,  quod  she,  right  as  you  lest, 
If  I  have  licence  of  this  worthy  frere. 

Yes,  dame,  quod  he,  tell  forth,  and  I  wol  here. 


S|!  ©if  af  ^ufyn  %kU. 

In  olde  dayes  of  the  king  Artour,4 
Of  which  that  Bretons  speken  gret  honour, 
All  was  this  lond  fulfilled  of  faerie ; 
The  Elf-quene,  with  hire  joly  compagnie, 
Danced  ful  oft  in  many  a  grene  mede 
This  was  the  old  opinion  as  I  rede ;! 
'  Brother.  2  Sing,  •'.  e.,  laugh,  chuckle. — Sec  Tyrtehitt. 

*  Interpose. 

*  I  hope  that  Chaucer,  by  placing  his  Elf-quene  in  the  daye$  of  King 
Artour,  did  not  mean  to  intimate  that  the  two  monarchies  were  equally 


Y«  Wif  of  Bathes  Talo. 


6445-6174.  THE  WIF  OF  BATHES  TALE.  179 

I  speke  of  many  hundred  yeres  ago; 

But  now  can  no  man  see  non  elves  mo, 

For  now  the  grete  charitee  and  prayeres 

Of  limitoures1  and  other  holy  freres, 

That  serchen  every  land  and  every  streme, 

As  thikke  as  motes3  in  the  sonne-beme, 

Blissing3  halles,  chambres,  kichenes,  and  boures,4 

Citees  and  burghes,  castles  highe  and  toures, 

Thropes8  and  bernes,6  shepenes  and  dairies. 

This  maketh  that  ther  ben  no  faeries: 

For  ther  as  wont  to  walken  was  an  elf, 

Ther  walketh  now  the  limitour  himself, 

In  undermeles7  and  in  morweninges,8 

And  sayth  his  Matines  and  his  holy  thinges, 

As  he  goth  in  his  limitatioun.9 

"Women  may  now  go  safely  up  and  doun, 

In  every  bush,  and  under  every  tree, 

Ther  is  non  other  incubus10  but  he, 

And  he  ne  will  don  hem  no  dishonour. 

And  so  befell  it,  that  this  king  Artour 
Had  in  his  hous  a  lusty  bacheler, 
That  on  a  day  came  riding  fro  river: 
And  happed,  that,  alone  as  she  was  borne, 
He  saw  a  maiden  walking  him  beforne, 
Of  which  maid  he  anon,  maugre  hire  bed, 
By  veray  force  beraft  hire  maidenhed: 
For  which  oppression  was  swiche  clamour, 
And  swiche  pursuite  unto  the  king  Artour, 
That  damned  was  this  knight  for  to  be  ded 
By  cours  of  lawe,  and  shuld  have  lost  his  hed, 

fabulous  and  visionary.    Master  Wace  has  judged  more  candidly  of  the 
exploits  of  our  British  hero. 

Ne  tut  mensonge,  ne  tut  veir ; 
Ne  tut  folie,  ne  tut  saveir. 
Tant  unt  li  conteor  conte, 
E  li  fableor  tant  fable, 
Par  les  contes  enbelecer, 
Ke  tut  unt  fait  fable  sembler. 

Le  Brut.  MS.  Cotton.  Vitell.  A.  7.— Tynchitt. 
»  Cf.  vs.  809,  253. 

3  Atoms,  spots,  what  Lucretius  calls  "  mice,"  loose  particles  floating 
In  the  air  3  Blessing.  *  Houses. 

*  For  "  thorpes,"  •". «.,  villages.  6  Barns. 

7  Either  "  dinner-time,"  or  the  time  after  dinner.  8  Mornings. 

*  I.e.,  on  his  duty  as  a  begging  friar.  ,0  Night-mare. 


180  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  64.76-6516. 

g'araventure  swiche  was  the  statute  tho,) 
ut  that  the  quene  and  other  ladies  mo 
So  longe  praieden  the  king  of  grace, 
Til  he  his  lif  him  granted  in  the  place, 
And  yaf  him  to  the  quene,  all  at  hire  will 
To  chese  whether  she  wold  him  save  or  spill. 

The  quene  thanketh  the  king  with  all  hire  might; 
And  after  this  thus  spake  she  to  the  knight, 
Whan  that  she  saw  hire  time  upon  a  day. 

Thou  standest  yet  (quod  she)  in  swiche  array, 
That  of  thy  lif  yet  hast  thou  no  seuretee ; 
I  grant  thee  lif,  if  thou  canst  tellen  me, 
What  thing  is  it  that  women  most  desiren: 
Beware,  and  kepe  thy  nekke-bone  from  yren.1 
And  if  thou  canst  not  tell  it  me  anon, 
Yet  wol  I  yeve  thee  leve  for  to  gon 
A  twelvemonth  and  a  day,  to  seke  and  lere3 
An  answer  suffisant  in  this  matere. 
And  seuretee  wol  I  have,  or  that  thou  pace,* 
Thy  body  for  to  yelden  in  this  place. 

Wo  was  the  knight,  and  sorwefully  he  siketh; 
But  what  ?  he  may  not  don  all  as  him  liketh. 
And  at  the  last  he  chese  him  for  to  wende, 
And  come  agen  right  at  the  yeres  ende 
With  swiche  answer,  as  God  wold  him  purvay: 
And  taketh  his  leve,  and  wendeth  forth  his  way. 

He  seketh  every  nous  and  every  place, 
Wher  as  he  hopeth  for  to  finden  grace, 
To  lernenwhat  thing  women  loven  moste: 
But  he  ne  coude  ariven  in  no  coste, 
Wher  as  he  mighte  find  in  this  matere 
Two  creatures  according  in  fere.4 
Som  saiden,  women  loven  best  richesse, 
Som  saiden  honour,  som  saiden  jolinesse, 
Som  riche  array,  som  saiden  lust  a-bedde, 
And  oft  time  to  be  widewe  and  to  be  wedde. 

Some  saiden,  that  we  ben  in  herte  most  esed 
Whan  that  we  ben  yflatered  and  ypreised. 
He  goth  ful  nigh  the  sothe,  I  wol  not  lie ; 
A  man  shal  winne  us  best  with  flaterie ; 
And  with  attendance,  and  with  besinesse 
Ben  we  ylimed5  bothe  more  and  lesse. 

Iron, i.e.,  the  sword*  3  Learn. 

3  Before  thou  go.  *  Together.  5  Limed,  caught. 


6517-6558.  THE  WIF  OP  BATHES  TALE.  181 

And  som  men  saiden,  that  we  loven  best 
For  to  be  tree,  and  do  right  as  us  list, 
And  that  no  man  repreve  us  of  our  vice, 
But  say  that  we  ben  wise,  and  nothing  nice. 
For  trewely  ther  n'is  non  of  us  all, 
If  any  wight  wol  claw  us  on  the  gall, 
That  we  n'ill  kike,  for  that  he  saith  us  soth: 
Assay,  and  he  shal  find  it,  that  so  doth. 
For  be  we  never  so  vicious  withinne, 
We  wol  be  holden  wise  and  clene  ot  sinne. 
And  som  saiden,  that  gret  delit  han  we 
For  to  be  holden  stable  and  eke  secre, 
And  in  o  purpos  stedfastly  to  dwell, 
And  not  bewreyen1  thing  that  men  us  tell. 
But  that  tale  is  not  worth  a  rake-stele.2 
Parde  we  women  connen  nothing  hele, 
Witnesse  on  Mida ;  wol  ye  here  the  tale  ? 

Ovide,  amonges  other  thinges  smale, 
Said,  Mida  had  under  his  longe  heres 
Growing  upon  his  hed  two  asses  eres ; 
The  whiche  vice  he  hid,  as  he  beste  might, 
Ful  subtilly  from  every  mannes  sight, 
That,  save  his  wif,  ther  wist  of  it  no  mo ; 
He  loved  hire  most,  and  trusted  hire  also ; 
He  praied  hire,  that  to  no  creature 
She  n'olde  tellen  of  his  disfigure. 

She  swore  him,  nay,  for  all  the  world  to  winne 
She  n'olde  do  that  vilanie,  ne  sinne, 
To  make  hire  husbond  han  so  foule  a  name: 
She  n'olde  not  tell  it  for  hire  owen  shame. 
But  natheles  hire  thoughte  that  she  dide, 
That  she  so  longe  shuld  a  conseil  hide; 
Hire  thought  it  swal3  so  sore  aboute  hire  herte, 
That  nedely  som  word  hire  must  asterte; 
And  sith  she  dorst  nat  telle  it  to  no  man, 
Doun  to  a  mareis4  faste  by  she  ran, 
Til  she  came  ther,  hire  herte  was  a-fire: 
And  as  a  bitore5  bumbleth6  in  the  mire, 
She  laid  hire  mouth  unto  the  water  doun.- 
Bewrey  me  not,  thou  water,  with  thy  soun, 
Quod  she,  to  thee  I  tell  it,  and  no  mo, 
Min  husbond  hath  long  asses  eres  two. 

>  Betray.  '  Bake-handle.  »  Swell.  4  Marsn. 

•  Bittern.  6  Usually,  to  make  a  hamming  noise. 

16 


182  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  6558-6600. 

Now  is  min  herte  all  hole,  now  is  it  out, 
I  might  no  lenger  kepe  it  out  of  dout, 
Here  may  ye  see,  though  we  a  time  abide, 
Yet  out  it  moste,  we  can  no  conseil  hide. 
The  remenant  of  the  tale,  if  ye  wol  here, 
Eedeth1  Ovide,  and  ther  ye  may  it  lere. 

This  knight,  of  which  my  tale  is  specially, 
Whan  that  he  saw  he  might  not  come  therby, 
(This  is  to  sayn,  what  women  loven  most) 
Within  his  brest  ful  sorweful  was  his  gost. 
But  home  he  goth,  he  mighte  not  sojourne, 
The  day  was  come,  that  homward  must  he  turno. 
And  in  his  way,  it  happed  him  to  ride 
In  all  his  care,  under  a  forest  side, 
Wheras  he  saw  upon  a  dance  go 
Of  ladies  foure  and  twenty,  and  yet  mo.' 
Toward  this  ilke  dance  he  drow2  ful  yerne,3 
In  hope  that  he  som  wisdom  shulde  lerne ; 
But  certainly,  er  he  came  fully  there, 
Yvanished  was  this  dance,  he  n'iste  not  wher; 
No  creature  saw  he  that  bare  lif, 
Save  on  the  grene  he  saw  sitting  a  wif, 
A  fouler  wight  ther  may  no  man  devise. 
Againe  this  knight  this  olde  wif  gan  arise, 
And  said ;  sire  knight,  here  forth  ne  lith4  no  way. 
Tell  me  what  that  ye  seken  by  your  fay. 
Paraventure  it  may  the  better  be : 
Thise  olde  folk  con  mochel  thing,5  quod  she. 

My  leve  mother,  quod  this  knight,  certain, 
I  n'am  but  ded,  but  if  that  I  can  sain, 
What  thing  it  is  that  women  most  desire: 
Coude  ye  me  wisse,  I  wold  quite  wel  your  hire. 
Plight  me  thy  trouthe  here  in  myn  hond,  quod  she, 
The  nexte  thing  that  I  requere  of  thee 
Thou  shalt  it  do,  if  it  be  in  thy  might, 
And  I  wol  tell  it  you  or  it  be  night. 

Have  here  my  trouthe,  quod  the  knight,  I  graunte. 

Thanne,  quod  she,  I  dare  me  wel  avaunte, 
Thy  lif  is  sauf,  for  I  wol  stond  therby, 
Upon  my  lif  the  quene  wol  say  as  I: 
Let  see,  which  is  the  proudest  of  hem  alle, 
That  wereth  on  a  kerchef  or  a  calle, 

1  Telletb.  8  Drew,  came.  *  Eagerly. 

4  There  lies.  *  Know  a  good  deal. 


6601-6642.  THE  WIF  OF  BATHES  TALE.  183 

That  dare  sayn  nay  of  that  I  shal  you  teche. 
Let  us  go  forth  withouten  lenger  speche. 

Tho  rowned  she  a  pistel1  iu  his  ere. 
And  bad  him  to  be  glad,  and  have  no  fere. 

Whan  they  ben  comen  to  the  court,  this  knight 
Said,  he  had  hold  his  day,  as  he  had  hight, 
And  redy  was  his  answere,  as  he  saide. 
Ful  many  a  noble  wif,  and  many  a  maide, 
And  many  a  widewe,  for  that  they  ben  wise, 
(The  quene  hireseh  sitting  as  a  justice) 
Assembled  ben,  his  answer  for  to  here, 
And  afterward  this  knight  was  bode2  appere. 

To  every  wight  commanded  was  silence, 
And  that  the  knight  shuld  tell  in  audience, 
What  thing  that  worldly  women  loven  best. 
This  knight  ne  stood  not  still,  as  doth  a  best, 
But  to  this  question  anon  answerd 
With  manly  vois,  that  all  the  court  it  herd. 

My  liege  lady,  generally,  quod  he, 
Women  desiren  to  han  soverainetee, 
As  well  over  hir  husbond  as  hir  love, 
And  for  to  ben  in  maistrie  him  above. 
This  is  your  most  desire,  though  ye  me  kille, 
Doth  as  you  list,  I  am  here  at  your  wille. 

In  all  the  court  ne  was  ther  wif  ne  maide, 
Ne  widewe,  that  contraried  that  he  saide, 
But  said,  he  was  worthy  to  han  his  lif. 

And  with  that  word  up  stert  this  olde  wif, 
Which  that  the  knight  saw  sitting  on  the  grene* 
Mercy,  quod  she,  my  soveraine  lady  quene, 
Er  that  your  court  depart,  as  doth  me  right. 
I  taughte  this  answer  unto  this  kuight, 
For  which  he  plighte  me  his  trouthe  there, 
The  firste  thing  I  wold  of  him  requere, 
He  wold  it  do,  if  it  lay  in  his  might. 
Before  this  court  than  pray  I  thee,  sire  knight* 
Quod  she,  that  thou  me  take  unto  thy  wif, 
For  wel  thou  wost,3  that  I  have  kept  thy  lif: 
If  I  say  false,  say  nay  upon  thy  fay. 

This  knight  answered,  alas  and  wala  wat 
I  wot  right  wel  that  swiche  was  my  behest. 
For  Goddes  love  as  chese*  a  new  request: 

1  A  short  lesson.  3  Bidden. 

>  Knowcst.  *  Pray  choos«. 


184  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  6643-0684 

Take  all  ray  good,  and  let  my  body  go. 

Nay  than,  quod  she,  I  shrewe  us  bothe  two. 
For  though  that  I  be  olde,  foule,  and  pore, 
I  n'olde  for  all  the  metal  ne  the  ore, 
That  under  erthe  is  grave,1  or  lith2  above, 
But  if  thy  wif  I  were  and  eke  thy  love. 

My  love  ?  quod  he,  nay,  my  dampnation. 
/  las !  that  any  01  my  nation 
Sauld  ever  so  loule  disparaged  be. 
But  all  tor  nought ;  the  end  is  this,  that  ho 
Constrained  was,  he  nedes  must  hire  wed, 
And  taketh  this  olde  wii,  and  goth  to  bed. 

Now  wolden  som  men  sayn  paraventure, 
That  lor  my  negligence  I  do  no  cure 
To  tellen  you  the  joye  and  all  the  array, 
That  at  the  teste  was  that  ilke  day. 

To  which  thing  shortly  answeren  I  shal : 
I  say  ther  was  no  joye  ne  ieste  at  al, 
Ther  n'as  but  hevinesse  and  mochel  sorwe : 
For  prively  he  wedded  hire  on  the  morwe, 
And  all  day  after  hid  him  as  an  oule, 
So  wo  was  him,  his  wif  loked  so  loule. 

Gret  was  the  wo  the  knight  had  in  his  thought 
Whan  he  was  with  his  wif  a-bed  ybrought, 
He  walweth,  and  he  turneth  to  and  fro. 

This  olde  wif  lay  smiling  evermo, 
And  said :  O  dere  husbond,  benedicite, 
Fareth  every  knight  thus  with  his  wii  as  ye? 
Is  this  the  lawe  of  king  Artoures  hous  ? 
Is  every  knight  ot  his  thus  dangerous  I3 
I  am  your  owen  love,  and  eke  your  wif, 
I  am  she,  which  that  saved  hath  your  lif, 
And  certes  yet  did  I  you  never  unright. 
Why  fare  ye  thus  with  me  this  firste  night  ? 
Ye  faren  like  a  man  had  lost  his  wit. 
What  is  my  gilt?  lor  Goddes  love  tell  it, 
And  it  shal  ben  amended,  it  I  may. 

Amended  ?  quod  this  knight,  alas  !  nay,  nay, 
It  wol  not  ben  amended  never  mo  ; 
Thou  art  so  lothly,  and  so  olde  also, 
And  therto  comen  of  so  low  a  kind, 
That  litel  wonder  is  though  I  walwe  and  wind  j* 

l  Buried.  «  Lieth. 

3  Difficult,  sparing  of  himself.  4  Turn  about. 


6685-6726.  THE  WIP  OF  BATHES  TALE.  185 

So  wolde  God,  min  herte  wolde  brest. 

Is  this,  quod  she,  the  cause  of  your  unrest? 

Ye  certainly,  quod  he,  no  wonder  is. 

Now  sire,  quod  she,  I  coude  amend  all  this, 
If  that  me  list,  er  it  were  dayes  three, 
So  wel  ye  mighten  bere  you-  unto  me. 

But  tor  ye  speken  of  swiche  gentillesse, 
As  is  descended  out  of  old  richesse, 
That  therf ore  shullen  ye  be  gentilmen ; 
Swiche  arrogance  n'is  not  worth  an  hen. 

Loke  who  that  is  most  vertuous  alway, 
Prive  and  apert,1  and  most  entendeth  ay 
To  do  the  gentil  dedes  that  he  can, 
And  take  him  for  the  gretest  gentilman. 
Crist  wol  we  claime  of  him  our  gentillesse, 
Not  of  our  elders  for  hir  old  richesse. 
For  though  they  yeve  us  all  hir  heril."  ;e, 
For  which  we  claime  to  ben  of  high  parage,9 
Yet  may  they  not  bequethen,  for  no  thing, 
To  non  of  us,  hir  vertuous  living, 
That  made  hem  gentilmen  called  to  be, 
And  bade  us  folwen  hem  in  swiche  degree. 

Wel  can  the  wise  poet  of  Florence, 
That  highte  Dant,  speken  of  this  sentence : 
Lo,  in  swiche  maner  rime  is  Dantes  tale.3 

Ful  selde4  up  riseth  by  his  branches  smale 
Prowesse  of  man,  for  God  of  his  goodnesse 
Wol  that  we  claime  of  him  our  gentillesse : 
For  of  our  elders  may  we  nothing  claime 
But  temporel  thing,  that  man  may  hurt  and  maime. 

Eke  every  wight  wot  this  as  wel  as  I, 
If  gentillesse  were  planted  naturelly 
Unto  a  certain  linage  doun  the  line, 
Prive  and  apert,  than  wold  they  never  fine* 
To  don  of  gentillesse  the  faire  office, 
They  mighten  do  no  vilanie  or  vice. 

Take  fire  and  bere  it  into  the  derkest  hous 
Betwix  this  and  the  mount  of  Caucasus, 
And  let  men  shette  the  dores,  and  go  thenne, 
Yet  wol  the  fire  as  faire  lie  and  brenne 
As  twenty  thousand  men  might  it  behol 
His  office  naturel  ay  wol  it  hold, 

1  In  private  and  public.  *  Lineage. 

•  See  Purgat.  vii.  131.  «  Seldom.  «  Cease. 

16* 


186  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  6727-6768. 

Up  peril  of  my  lif,  til  that  it  die. 

Here  may  ye  see  wel,  how  that  genterie1 
Is  not  annexed  to  possession, 
Sith  folk  ne  don  hir  operation 
Alway,  as  doth  the  fire,  lo,  in  his  kind. 
For  God  it  wot,  men  moun  ful  often  find 
A  lordes  sone  do  shame  and  vilanie. 
And  he  that  wol  han  pris  of  his  genterie, 
For  he  was  boren  of  a  gentil  hous, 
And  had  his  elders  noble  and  vertuous, 
And  n'ill  himselven  do  no  gentil  dedes, 
Ne  folwe  his  gentil  auncestrie,  that  ded  is, 
He  n'is  not  gentil,  be  he  duk  or  erl ; 
For  vilains  sinful  dedes  make  a  cherL 
For  gentillesse  n'is  but  the  renomee2 
Of  thin  auncestres,  tor  hir  high  bountee,* 
Which  is  a  strange  thing  to  thy  persone: 
Thy  gentillesse  cometh  fro  God  alone. 
Than4  cometh  our  veray  gentillesse  of  grace, 
It  was  no  thing  bequethed  us  with  our  place. 

Thinketh  how  noble,  as  saith  Valerius, 
Was  thilke  Tullius  Hostilius, 
That  out  of  poverte  rose  to  high  noblesse. 
Eedeth  Senek,  and  redeth  eke  Boece, 
Ther  shull  ye  seen  expresse,  that  it  no  dred  is,' 
That  he  is  gentil  that  doth  gentil  dedis.6 
And  therfore,  leve  husbond,  I  thus  conclude, 
Al  be  it  that  min  auncestres  weren  rude, 
Yet  may  the  highe  God,  and  so  hope  I, 
Granten  me  grace  to  liven  vertuously : 
Than  am  I  gentil,  whan  that  I  beginno 
To  liven  vertuously,  and  weiven  sinne. 

And  ther  as  ye  of  poverte  me  repreve, 
The  highe  God,  on  whom  that  we  beleve, 
In  wilful  poverte  chese  to  lede  his  lif : 
And  certes,  every  man,  maiden,  or  wif 
May  understand,  that  Jesus  heven  king 
Ne  wold  not  chese  a  vicious  living. 

Glad  poverte  is  an  honest  thing  certain. 
This  wol  Senek  and  other  clerkes  sain. 
Who  so  that  halt  him  paid  of  his  poverte, 
I  hold  him  rich,  al  had  he  not  a  sherte. 

1  Gentility.  -  Renown.  3  Goodness. 

4  Thence.  5  There  is  no  doubt.  6  Deeds. 


6769-6802.  THE  W1P  OP  BATHES  TALE.  187 

He  that  coveiteth  is  a  poure  wight, 
For  he  wold  han  that  is  not  in  his  might. 
But  he  that  nought  hath,  ne  coveiteth  to  have^ 
Is  riche,  although  ye  hold  him  but  a  knave. 
Veray  poverte  is  sinne  proprely.1 

Juvenal  saith  of  poverte  merily : 
The  poure  man  whan  he  goth  by  the  way, 
Beforn  the  theves  he  may  sing  and  play.* 
Poverte  is  hateful  good ;  and,  as  I  gesse, 
A  ful  gret  bringer  out  of  besinesse ; 
A  gret  amender  eke  of  sapience 
To  him,  that  taketh  it  in  patience. 
Poverte  is  this,  although  it  seme  elenge,' 
Possession  that  no  wight  wol  challenge. 
Poverte  ful  often,  whan  a  man  is  low, 
Maketh  his  Gud  and  eke  himself  to  know : 
Poverte  a  spectakel  is,  as  thinketh  me, 
Thurgh  which  he  may  his  veray  frendes  see. 
And  therfore,  sire,  sin  that  I  you  not  greve, 
Of  my  poverte  no  more  me  repreve. 

Now,  sire,  of  elde,  that  ye  repreven  me: 
And  certes,  sire,  though  non  auctoritee 
Were  in  no  book,  ye  gentiles  of  honour 
Sain,  that  men  shuld  an  olde  wight  honour, 
And  clepe  him  fader,  for  your  gentillesse; 
And  auctours  shal  I  finden,  as  I  gesse. 

Now  ther  ye  sain  that  I  am  foule  and  old, 
Than  drede  ye  not  to  ben  a  cokewold. 
For  filthe,  and  elde4  also,  so  mote  I  the, 
Ben  grete  wardeins  upon  chastitee. 
But  natheles,  sin  I  know  your  delit, 
I  shal  fulfill  your  worldly  appetit. 

Chese  now  (quod  she)  on  of  thise  thinges  twey, 
To  han  me  foule  and  old  til  that  I  dey, 

1  In  this  commendation  of  Poverty,  our  author  seems  plainly  to  have 
had  in  view  the  following  passage  of  a  fabulous  conference  between  the 
Emperour  Adrian  and  Secundus  the  philosopher,  reported  by  Vincent  of 
Beauvai?,  Spec.  Histor.  1.  x.  c.  71.  Quid  est  Paupcrtas?  Odibile  bonum; 
sanitatis  mater;  remotio  curarum ;  tapientite  repertrix;  negotium  sine 
damno ;  postessio  absque  calumuia;  sine  sollicitudine  felicitas.  What 
Vincent  has  there  published  appears  to  have  been  extracted  from  a 
larger  collection  of  Gnotnce  under  the  name  of  Secundus,  which  are  still 
extant  in  Greek  and  Latin.  See  Fabric.  Bib.  Gr.  1.  vi.  c.  x.  and  MS. 
Harl.  399.  The  author  of  Pierce  Ploughman  has  quoted  and  paraphrased 
the  same  passage,  fol.  75. — Tyrwhitt. 

8  Cantabit  vacuus  coram  latronc  viator.  *  Strange.  *  Age. 


188  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  6803-6846. 

And  be  to  you  a  trewe  humble  wif, 

And  never  you  displese  in  all  my  lif : 

Or  elles  wol  ye  ban  me  yonge  and  taire, 

And  take  your  aventure  of  the  repaire, 

That  shal  be  to  your  hous  because  of  me, 

Or  in  som  other  placi  it  may  wel  be? 

Now  chese  yourselven  whether  that  you  liketh. 

This  knight  aviseth  him,  and  sore  siketh, 
But  at  the  last  he  said  in  this  manere  ; 

My  lady  and  my  love,  and  wif  so  dere, 
I  put  me  in  your  wise  governance, 
Cheseth  yourself  which  may  be  most  plesance 
And  most  honour  to  you  and  me  also, 
I  do  no  force  the  whether  of  the  two : 
For  as  you  liketh,  it  sufficeth  me. 

Than  have  I  got  the  maisterie,  quod  she, 
Sin  I  may  chese  and  governe  as  me  lest. 
Ye  certes,  wif,  quod  he,  I  hold  it  best. 

Kisse  me,  quod  she,  we  be  no  lenger  wrothe, 
For  by  my  trouth  I  wol  be  to  you  bothe, 
This  is  to  sayn,  ye  bothe  faire  and  good. 
I  pray  to  God  that  I  mote  sterven  wood,1 
But  I  to  you  be  al  so  good  and  trewe, 
As  ever  was  wif,  sin  that  the  world  was  newe: 
And  but  I  be  to-morwe  as  faire  to  seen, 
As  any  lady,  emperice,  or  quene, 
That  is  betwix  the  Est  and  eke  the  "West, 
Doth  with  my  lif  and  deth  right  as  you  lest. 
Cast  up  the  curtein,  loke  how  that  it  is. 

And  whan  the  knight  saw  veraily  all  this, 
That  she  so  faire  was,  and  so  yonge  therto, 
For  joye  he  hent2  hire  in  his  armes  two: 
His  herte  bathed  in  a  bath  of  blisse, 
A  thousand  time  a-row  he  gan  hire  kisse: 
And  she  obeyed  him  in  every  thing, 
That  mighte  don  him  plesance  or  liking. 
And  thus  they  live  unto  hir  lives  ende 
In  parfit  joye,  and  Jesu  Crist  us  sende 
Husbondes  meke  and  yonge,  and  fressh  a-bed, 
And  grace  to  overlive  hem  that  we  wed. 

And  eke  I  pray  Jesus  to  short  hir  lives, 
That  wol  not  be  governed  by  hir  wives. 
And  old  and  angry  nigards  ol  dispence, 
God  send  hem  sone  a  veray  pestilence. 

i  Die  mad.  2  Seized 


189 


THE  FRERES  PROLOGUE. 


6847-6873. 

This  worthy  limitour,  this  noble  Frere. 
He  made  alway  a  maner  louring  chere* 
Upon  the  Sompnour,  but  for  hoaestee2 
No  vilains  word  as  yet  to  him  spake  ho: 
But  at  the  last  he  said  unto  the  wif ; 
Dame,  (quod  he)  God  yeve  you  right  good  lif, 
Ye  have  here  touched,  all  so  mote  I  the, 
In  scole  matere  a  ful  gret  difficultee. 
Ye  han  said  mochel  thing  right  wel,  I  say: 
But,  dame,  here  as  we  riden  by  the  way, 
Us  nedeth  not  to  speken  but  of  game, 
And  let  auctoritees3  in  Goddes  name 
To  preching,  and  to  scole  eke  ol  clergie. 

But  if  it  like  unto  this  compagnie, 
I  wol  you  of  a  Sompnour  tell  a  game; 
Parde  ye  may  wel  knowen  by  the  name, 
That  of  a  Sompnour  may  no  good  be  said ; 
I  pray  that  non  of  you  be  evil  apaid; 
A  Sompnour  is  a  renner  up  and  doun 
With  mandements  for  fornicatioun, 
And  is  ybete  at  every  tounes  ende. 

Tho  spake  our  hoste ;  A,  sire,  ye  shuld  ben  hende 
And  curteis,  as  a  man  of  your  estat, 
In  compagnie  we  wiln  have  no  debat: 
Telleth  your  tale,  and  let  the  Sompnour  be. 
Nay,  quod  the  Sompnour,  let  him  say  by  me 
What  so  him  list;  whan  it  cometh  to  my  lotj 
By  God  I  shal  him  quiten  every  grot. 
I  shal  him  tellen  which  a  gret  honour 
It  is  to  be  a  flatering  limitour, 
And  eke  of  many  another  maner  crime, 
Which  nedeth  not  rehersen  at  this  time, 

*  Shewed  a  kind  of  discontented  feeling  towards  him. 

*  Out  of  propriety.  '  Texts  of  Scripture. 


190  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  6879-6913. 

And  his  office  I  shal  him  tell  ywis. 
Our  hoste  answered ;  pees,  no  more  of  this. 
And  afterward  he  said  unto  the  Frere, 
Tell  forth  your  tale,  min  owen  maister  dere. 


f  Jt  $nm  %tit. 


Whilom  ther  was  dwelling  in  my  contree 

An  archedeken,  a  man  of  high  degree, 

That  boldely  did  execution 

In  punishing  of  fornication, 

Of  witchecraft,  and  eke  of  bauderie, 

Of  defamation,  and  avouterie,1 

Of  chirche-reves,2  and  ot  testaments, 

Of  contracts,  and  of  lack  of  sacrament3, 

Of  usure,  and  of  simonie  also ; 

But  certes  lechours  did  he  gretest  wo ; 

They  shulden  singen,  if  that  they  were  hentf 

And  smale  titheres  weren  foule  yshent,4 

If  any  persone  wold  upon  hem  plame, 

Ther  might  astert  hem  no  pecunial  peine. 

For  smale  tithes,  and  smale  offering, 

He  made  the  peple  pitously  to  sing; 

For  er  the  bishop  hent  hem  with  his  crook 

They  weren  in  the  archedekens  bookj 

Than  had  he  thurgh  his  jurisdiction 

Power  to  don  on  hem  correction. 

He  had  a  Sompnour  redy  to  his  hond, 
A  slier  boy  was  non  in  Englelond; 
For  subtilly  he  had  his  espiaille, 
That  taught  him  wel  wher  it  might  ought  availle. 
He  coude  spare  of  lechours  on  or  two, 
To  techen  him  to  foure  and  twenty  mo. 
For  though  this  Sompnour  wood  be  as  an  hare, 
To  tell  his  harlotrie  I  wol  not  spare, 
For  we  ben  out  of  hir  correction, 
They  han  of  us  no  jurisdiction, 

1  Adultery.  '  Churchwardens. 

8  Caught.  *  Hurt,  injured,  oppressed. 


6913-6952.  THE  FBERES  TALE.  191 

Ne  never  shul  have,  terme  oi  all  hir  lives. 

Peter,  so  ben  the  women  of  the  stives, 
Quod  this  Sompnour,  yput  out  of  our  cure. 

Pees,  with  mischance  and  with  misa venture, 
Our  hoste  said,  and  let  him  tell  his  tale. 
Now  telleth  forth,  and  let  the  Sompnour  gale.1 
Ne  spareth  not,  min  owen  maister  dere. 

This  false  theef,  this  Sompnour,  quod  the  frere, 
Had  alway  baudes  redy  to  his  bond, 
As  any  hauke  to  lure  in  Englelond, 
That  told  him  all  the  secree  that  they  knewe, 
For  hir  acquaintance  was  not  come  of  newe ; 
They  weren  his  approvers  prively. 
He  tooke  himself  a  gret  profit  therby: 
His  maister  knew  not  alway  what  he  wan.9 
Withouten  mandement,3  a  lewed  man 
He  coude  sompne,  up  peine  of  Cristes  curse, 
And  they  were  inly4  glad  to  fille  his  purse, 
And  maken  him  gret  festes  at  the  nale.& 
And  right  as  Judas  hadde  purses  smale 
And  was  a  theef,  right  swiche  a  theef  was  he, 
His  master  hadde  but  half  his  duetee.6 
He  was  (if  I  shal  yeven  him  his  laud)7 
A  theef,  and  eke  a  Sompnour,  and  a  baud. 

He  had  eke  wenches  at  his  retenue, 
That  whether  that  sire  Eobert  or  sire  Hue, 
Or  Jakke,  or  Kauf,  or  who  so  that  it  were 
That  lay  by  hem,  they  told  it  in  his  ere. 
Thus  was  the  wenche  and  he  of  on  assent. 
And  he  wold  fecche  a  feined  mandement, 
And  sompne  hem  to  the  chapitre  bothe  two, 
And  pill8  the  man,  and  let  the  wenjche  go. 
Than  wold  he  say;  frend,  I  shal  for  thy  sake 
Do  strike  thee  out  of  oure  lettres  blake ; 
Thee  thar9  no  more  as  in  this  cas  travaillej 
I  am  thy  frend  ther  I  may  thee  availle. 
Certain  he  knew  of  briboures  many  mo, 
Than  possible  is  to  tell  in  yeres  two: 
For  in  this  world  n'is  dogge  for  the  bowe,10 
That  can  an  hurt  dere  from  an  hole11  yknowe, 

1  Sing,  laugh.  -  Gained.  s  Mandate. 

« Inwardly,  thoroughly.  *  Alehouse.  •  Due,  duty. 

7  Praise.  •  Plunder.  *  Thou  must. 

»  J.  e.,  the  chaco.  u  Whole,  unhurt. 


192  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  6953-6992. 

•  Bet  than  this  Sompnour  knew  a  slie  lechour, 
Or  an  avoutrer,1  or  a  paramour; 
And  for  that  was  the  fruit  of  all  his  rent, 
Therfore  on  it  he  set  all  his  entent. 

And  so  befell,  that  ones  on  a  day 
This  Sompnour,  waiting  ever  on  his  pray, 
Rode  forth  to  sompne  a  widewe,  an  olde  ribibe,' 
Feining  a  cause,  for  he  wold  han  a  bribe. 
And  happed  that  he  saw  beforn  him  ride 
A  gay  yeman  under  a  forest  side : 
A  bow  he  bare,  and  arwes  bright  and  kene, 
He  had  upon  a  courtepy  of  grene, 
An  hat  upon  his  hed  with  frenges  blake. 

Sire,  quod  this  Sompnour,  haile  and  wel  atake.* 

Welcome,  quod  he,  and  every  good  felaw ; 
Whider  ridest  thou  under  this  grene  shaw  ? 
(Saide  this  yeman)  wolt  thou  fer4  to-day  1 

This  Sompnour  him  answerd,  and  saide,  nay. 
Here  faste  by  (quod  he)  is  min  entent 
To  riden,  for  to  reisen  up  a  rent, 
That  longeth5  to  my  lordes  duetee. 

A,  art  thou  than  a  baillif  ?    Ye,  quod  he. 
(He  dorste  not  for  veray  tilth  and  shame 
Say  that  he  was  a  Sompnour,  for  the  name.) 

Depar  dieux,  quod  this  yeman,  leve  brother, 
Thou  art  a  baillif,  and  I  am  another. 
I  am  unknowen,  as  in  this  contree. 
Of  thin  acquaintance  I  wol  prayen  thee, 
And  eke  of  brotherhed,  if  that  thee  list. 
I  have  gold  and  silver  lying  in  my  chist; 
If  that  thee  hap  to  come  in  to  our  shire, 
Al  shal  be  thin,  right  as  thou  wolt  desire. 

Grand  mercy,  quod  this  Sompnour,  by  my  faith. 
Everich  in  others  hond  his  trouthe  laith, 
For  to  be  sworne  brethren  til  they  dey. 
In  daliaunce  they  riden  forth  and  pley. 

This  Sompnour,  which  that  was  as  ful  of  jangles, 
As  ful  of  venime  ben  thise  wariangles,6 
And  ever  enquering  upon  every  thing, 
Brother,  quod  he,  wher  is  now  your  dwelling, 

1  Adulterer. 
3  Probably  some  Bhrill  musical  instrument,  used  as  a  term  of  reproach 
8  Well  met.  *  Goest  thou  far? 

8  Belongetu.  *  A  kiud  of  noisy  bird. 


6993-7034.  THE  FRERES  TALE.  193 

Another  day  if  that  I  shuld  you  seche  ? 

This  yeman  him  answerd  in  softe  speche; 
Brother,  quod  he,  fer  in  the  North  contree, 
Wheraa  I  hope  somtime  I  shal  thee  see. 
Or  we  depart  I  shal  thee  so  wel  wisse, 
That  of  min  hous  ne  shalt  thou  never  misse. 

Now  brother,  quod  this  Sompnour,  I  you  pray, 
Teche  me,  while  that  we  riden  by  the  way, 
(Sith  that  ye  ben  a  baillif  as  am  I) 
Som  subtiltee,  and  tell  me  faithfully 
In  min  office  how  I  may  moste  winne. 
And  spareth  not  for  conscience  or  for  sinne, 
But,  as  my  brother,  tell  me  how  do  ye. 

Now  by  my  trouthe,  brother  min,  said  he, 
As  I  shal  tellen  thee  a  faithful  tale. 
My  wages  ben  ful  streit1  and  eke  ful  smjle ; 
My  lord  is  hard  to  me  and  dangerous, 
And  min  office  is  ful  laborious ; 
And  therfore  by  extortion  I  leve, 
Forsoth  I  take  all  that  men  wol  me  yeve. 
Algates  by  sleighte  or  by  violence 
Fro  yere  to  yere  I  win  all  my  dispence ; 
I  can  no  better  tellen  faithfully. 

Now  certes,  (quod  this  Sompnour)  so  fare  I; 
I  spare  not  to  taken,  God  it  wote, 
But  if  it  be  to  hevy  or  to  hote. 
What  I  may  gete  in  conseil  prively, 
No  maner  conscience  of  that  have  I. 
N'ere2  min  extortion,  I  might  not  liven, 
Ne  of  swiche  japes  wol  I  not  be  shriven. 
Stomak  ne  conscience  know  I  non ; 
I  shrew  thise  shrifte-faders3  everich  on. 
Wel  be  we  met  by  God  and  by  Seint  Jame. 
But  leve  brother,  tell  me  than  thy  name, 
Quod  this  Sompnour.    Eight  in  this  mene  while 
This  yeman  gan  a  litel  for  to  smile. 

Brother,  quod  he,  wolt  thou  that  I  thee  telle  ? 
I  am  a  fend,  my  dwelling  is  in  helle, 
And  here  I  ride  about  my  pourchasing, 
To  wote  wher  men  wol  give  me  any  thing. 
My  pourchas  is  th'effect  of  all  my  rente. 
Loke  how  thou  ridest  for  the  same  entente 

1  Narrow.  *  Were  it  not  for. 

3 1  curse  these  father  confessors. 
17 


194  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  7035-7076, 

To  winnen  good,  thou  rekkest  never  how, 
Eight  so  fare  I,  for  riden  wol  I  now 
Unto  the  worldes  ende  for  a  praye. 

A,  quod  this  Sompnour,  benedicite,  what  say  yet 
I  wend  ye  were  a  yeman  trewely. 
Ye  have  a  mannes  shape  as  wel  as  I. 
Have  ye  than  a  figure  determinat 
In  helle,  ther1  ye  ben  in  your  estat  ? 

Nay  certainly,  quod  he,  ther  have  we  non, 
But  whan  us  liketh  we  can  take  us  on, 
Or  elles  make  you  wene2  that  we  ben  shape 
Somtime  like  a  man,  or  like  an  ape; 
Or  like  an  angel  can  I  ride  or  go ; 
It  is  no  wonder  thing  though  it  be  so, 
A  lousy  jogelour3  can  deceiven  thee, 
And  parde  yet  can4 1  more  craft  than  he. 

Why,  quod  the  Sompnour,  ride  ye  than  or  gon 
In  sondry  shape,  and  not  alway  in  on  1 

For  we,  quod  he,  wol  us  swiche  forme  make, 
As  most  is  able  our  preye  tor  to  take. 

What  maketh  you  to  han  al  this  labour  ? 

Ful  many  a  cause,  leve  sire  Sompnour, 
Saide  this  fend.    But  alle  thing  hath  time ; 
The  day  is  short,  and  it  is  passed  prime, 
And  yet  ne  wan  I  nothing  in  this  day; 
I  wol  entend  to  winning,  if  I  may, 
And  not  entend  our  thinges  to  declare: 
For,  brother  min,  thy  wit  is  al  to  bare 
To  understand,  although  I  told  hem  thee. 
But  for  thou  axest,  why  labouren  we : 
For  somtime  we  be  Goddes  instruments, 
And  menes  to  don  his  commandements, 
Whan  that  him  list,  upon  his  creatures, 
In  divers  actes  and  in  divers  figures ; 
Withouten  him  we  have  no  might  certain, 
If  that  him  list  to  stonden  theragain. 
And  somtime  at  our  praiere  han  we  leve,' 
Only  the  body,  and  not  the  soule  to  greve: 
Witnesse  on  Job,  whom  that  we  diden  wo. 
And  somtime  han  we  might  on  bothe  two, 
This  is  to  sain,  on  soule  and  body  eke. 
And  somtime  be  we  suffered  xor  to  seke 

*  Where.  >  Think. 

3  Juggler.  4  Know.  5  Leave. 


7077-7116.  THE  FBEBES  TALE.  195 

Upon  a  man,  and  don  his  soule  unreste 

And  not  his  body,  and  all  is  for  the  beste. 

Whan  he  withstandeth  our  temptation, 

It  is  a  cause  of  his  salvation, 

Al  be  it  that  it  was  not  our  entente 

He  shuld  be  sauf,  but  that  we  wold  him  hente.1 

And  somtime  be  we  servants  unto  man, 

As  to  the  archebishop  Seint  Dunstan, 

And  to  the  apostle  servant  eke  was  I. 

Yet  tell  me,  quod  this  Sompnour,  faithfully, 
Make  ye  you  newe  bodies  thus  alway 
Oi  elements?    The  fend  answered,  nay : 
Somtime  we  feine,2  and  somtime  we  arise 
With  dede  bodies,  in  ful  sondry  wise, 
And  speke  as  renably,  and  faire,  and  wel, 
As  to  the  Phitonesse3  did  Samuel : 
And  yet  wol  som  men  say  it  was  not  he. 
I  do  no  force  of  your  divinitee. 
But  o  thing  warne  I  thee,  I  wol  not  jape, 
Thou  wolt  algates  wete  how  we  be  shape: 
Thou  shalt  hereafterward,  my  brother  dere, 
Come,  wher  thee  nedeth  not  of  me  to  lere, 
For  thou  shalt  by  thin  owen  experience 
Conne  in  a  chaiere  rede4  of  this  sentence, 
Bet  than  Virgile,  while  he  was  on  live, 
Or  Dant  also.    Now  let  us  riden  blive, 
Fer  I  wol  holden  compagnie  with  thee, 
Til  it  be  so  that  thou  forsake  me. 

Nay,  quod  this  Sompnour,  that  shal  never  betide. 
I  am  a  yeman  knowen  is  ful  wide ; 
My  trouthe  wol  I  hold,  as  in  this  cas. 
For  though  thou  were  the  devil  Sathanas, 
My  trouthe  wol  I  hold  to  thee,  my  brother, 
As  I  have  sworne,  and  eche  of  us  to  other, 
For  to  be  trewe  brethren  in  this  cas, 
And  bo  the  we  gon  abouten  our  pourchas. 
Take  thou  thy  part,  what  that  men  wol  thee  yeve, 
And  I  shal  min,  thus  may  we  bothe  leve. 
And  h  that  any  of  us  have  more  than  other, 
Let  him  be  trewe,  and  part  it  with  his  brother. 

1  Seize,  get  possession  of.  2  Feign. 

8  Pythoness,  the  witch  of  Endor. 

*  Learn  in  a  professor's  chair  the  meaning. 


196  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  7117-7156. 

I  graunte,  quod  the  devil,  by  my  fay. 
And  with  that  word  they  riden  forth  hir  way, 
And  right  at  entring  of  the  tounes  ende, 
To  which  this  Sompnour  shope1  him  for  to  wende, 
They  saw  a  cart,  that  charged  was  with  hay, 
Which  that  a  carter  drove  forth  on  his  way. 
Depe  was  the  way,  for  which  the  carte  stood : 
The  carter  smote,  and  cried  as  he  were  wood, 
Heit  scot,  heit  brok,  what  spare  ye  for  the  stones  ? 
The  fend  (quod  he)  you  fecche  body  and  bones, 
As  ferf orthly2  as  ever  ye  were  foled, 
So  mochel  wo  as  I  have  with  you  tholed.8 
The  devil  have  al,  bothe  hors,  and  cart,  and  hay. 

The  Sompnour  sayde,  here  shal  we  have  a  pray; 
And  nere  the  fende  he  drow,  as  nought  ne  were, 
Ful  prively,  and  rouned4  in  his  ere: 
Herken  my  brother,  herken,  by  thy  faith, 
Herest  thou  not,  how  that  the  carter  saith? 
Hent5  it  anon,  for  he  hath  yeve  it  thee, 
Both  hay  and  cart,  and  eke  his  caples6  three. 

Nay,  quod  the  devil,  God  wot,  never  a  del, 
It  is  not  his  entente,  trust  thou  me  wel, 
Axe  him  thyself,  if  thou  not  trowest  me, 
Or  elles  stint  a  while  and  thou  shalt  see. 

This  carter  thakketh7  his  hors  upon  the  croupe,8 
And  they  begonne  to  drawen  and  to  stoupe. 
Heit  now,  quod  he,  ther  Jesu  Crist  you  blesse, 
And  all  his  hondes  werk,  both  more  and  lesse: 
That  was  wel  twight,9  min  owen  liard10  boy, 
I  pray  God  save  thy  body  and  Seint  Eloy. 
Now  is  my  cart  out  of  the  slough  parde. 

Lo,  brother,  quod  the  fend,  what  told  I  thee  ? 
Here  may  ye  seen,  min  owen  dere  brother, 
The  cherl  spake  o  thing,  but  he  thought  another. 
Let  us  go  forth  abouten  our  viage ; 
Here  win  I  nothing  upon  this  cariage. 

Whan  that  they  comen  somwhat  out  of  toun, 
This  Sompnour  to  his  brother  gan  to  roune ; 
Brother,  quod  he,  here  woneth  an  old  rebekke, 
That  had  almost  as  lefe  to  lese  hire  nekke, 

i  Shaped,  resolved.  2  Quickly.  3  Suffered. 

*  Whispered.  6  Seize.  6  Horses. 

7  Striketh.  8  The  ridge  of  the  back. 

9  Pulled.  ,0  A  common  name  for  a  grey  horse. 


7167-7196.  THE   FRERES  TALE. 

As  for  to  yeve  a  peny  of  hire  good. 

I  wol  have  twelf  pens1  though  that  she  be  wood,' 

Or  I  wol  somone  hire  to  our  office  ; 

And  yet,  God  wot,  of  hire  know  I  no  vice. 

But  for  thou  canst  not,  as  in  this  contree, 

Winnen  thy  cost,  take  here  ensample  of  me. 

This  Sompnour  clappeth  at  the  widewes  gate ; 
Come  out,  he  sayd,  thou  olde  very  trate  ;3 
I  trow  thou  hast  som  frere  or  preest  with  thee. 

Who  clappeth  ?'    said  this  wif,  benedicite, 
God  save  you,  sire,  what  is  your  swete  will? 

I  have,  quod  he,  of  somons  here  a  bill. 
Up  peine  of  cursing,  loke  that  thou  be 
To-morwe  before  the  archedekenes  knee, 
To  answere  to  the  court,  of  certain  thinges. 

Now  lord,  quod  she,  Crist  Jesu,  king  of  kinges, 
So  wisly  helpe  me,  as  I  ne  may. 
I  have  ben  sike,  and  that  ful  many  a  day. 
I  may  not  go  so  fer  (quod  she)  ne  ride, 
But  I  be  ded,  so  priketh  it  in  my  side. 
May  I  not  axe  a  libel,5  sire  Sompnour, 
And  answere  ther  by  my  procuratour9 
To  swiche  thing  as  men  wold  apposen  me? 

Yes,  quod  this  Sompnour,  pay  anon,  let  see, 
Tweli  pens  to  me,  and  I  wol  thee  acquite. 

I  shal  no  profit  han  therby  but  lito* 
My  maister  hath  the  profit  and  not  I 
Come  of,  and  let  me  riden  hastily; 

Yeve  me  twelf  pens,  I  may  no  lenger  tarie. 

Twelf  pens,  quod  she,  now  lady  Seinte  Marie 
So  wisly  helpe  me  out  of  care  and  sinne, 
This  wide  world  though  that  I  shuld  it  winne, 
Ne  have  I  not  twelt  pens  within  my  hold. 
Ye  knowen  wel  that  I  am  poure  and  old ; 
Kithe7  your  almesse  upon  me  poure  wretche. 

Nay  than,  quod  he,  the  foule  fend  me  fetche, 

II  I  thee  excuse,  though  thou  shuldest  be  spilt. 
Alas!  quod  she,  God  wot,  I  have  no  gilt. 

Pay  me,  quod  he,  or  by  the  swete  Seinte  Anne 
As  I  wol  bere  away  thy  newe  panne 


•Pence.  2  Mad.  »  Trot,  a  familiar  epithet  for  an  old  woman. 

*  Knocketh.  6  A  little  book,  or  writ  of  indulgence. 

•  Proctor.  7  Shew,  bestow. 

17+ 


198  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  7197-7238. 

For  dette,  which  thou  owest  me  of  old, 

Whan  that  thou  madest  thyn  husbond  cokewold, 

I  paied  at  home  for  thy  correction. 

Thou  liest,  quod  she,  by  my  salvation, 
Ne  was  I  never  or  now,  widew  ne  wif, 
Sompned  unto  your  court  in  all  my  lif ; 
Ne  never  I  n'as  but  of  my  body  trewe. 
Unto  the  devil  rough  and  blake  of  hewe 
Yeve  I  thy  body  and  my  panne  also. 

And  whan  the  devil  herd  hire  cursen  so 
Upon  hire  knees,  he  sayd  in  this  manere ; 

Now,  Mabily,  min  owen  moder  dere, 
Is  this  your  will  in  ernest  that  ye  sey  ? 

The  devil,  quod  she,  so  fetche  him  or  he  dey, 
And  panne  and  all,  but  he  wol  him  repent. 

Nay,  olde  stot,  that  is  not  min  entent, 
Quod  this  Sompnour,  for  to  repenten  me 
For  any  thing  that  I  have  had  of  thee ; 
I  wold  I  had  thy  smok  and  every  cloth. 

Now  brother,  quod  the  devil,  be  not  wroth ; 
Thy  body  and  this  paune  ben  min  by  right. 
Thou  shalt  with  me  to  helle  yet  to-night, 
Wher  thou  shalt  knowen  of  our  privetee 
More  than  a  maister  of  divinitee. 

And  with  that  word  the  foule  fend  him  hent. 
Body  and  soule,  he  with  the  devil  went, 
Wher  as  thise  Sompnours  han  hir  heritage ; 
And  God  that  maked  after  his  image 
Mankinde,  save  and  gide  us  all  and  some, 
And  lene  this  Sompnour  good  man  to  become. 

Lordings,  I  coude  have  told  you,  (quod  this  frere) 
Had  I  had  leiser  for  this  Sompnour  here, 
After  the  text  of  Crist,  and  Poule,1  and  John, 
And  of  oure  other  doctours  many  on, 
Swiche  peines,  that  your  hertes  might  agnse, 
Al  be  it  so,  that  no  tonge  may  devise, 
Though  that  I  might  a  thousand  winter  telle, 
The  peines  of  thilke  cursed  hous  ol  helle. 
But  for  to  kepe  us  fro  that  cursed  place, 
Waketh,  and  prayeth  Jesu  ot  his  grace, 
So  kepe  us  fro  the  temptour  Sathanas. 
Herkueth  this  word,  beware  as  in  this  cas. 

>  Paul. 


7239-7246.  THE  FRERES  TALE.  199 

The  leon  sit  in  his  awaite  alway 

To  sle  the  innocent,  if  that  he  may. 

Disposeth  ay  your  hertes  to  withstond 

The  lend,  that  you  wold  maken  thral  and  bond; 

He  may  not  tempten  you  over  your  might, 

For  Crist  wol  be  your  champion  and  your  knight; 

And  prayeth,  that  this  Sompnour  him  repent 

Of  his  misdedes,  or  that  the  fend  him  hent» 


THE  SOMPNOUKES  PROLOGUE. 

7247-7278. 

This  Sompnour  in  his  stirops  high  he  stood, 
Upon  this  Frere  his  herte  was  so  wood, 
That  like  an  aspen  leef  he  quoke  for  ire: 
Lordings,  quod  he,  hut  o  thing  I  desire, 
I  you  heseche,  that  of  your  curtesie, 
Sin  ye  han  herd  this  false  Frere  lie, 
As  suffereth1  me  I  may  my  tale  telle. 

This  Frere  bo3teth  that  he  knoweth  helle, 
And,  God  it  wot,  that  is  but  litel  wonder, 
Freres  and  fendes  ben  but  litel  asonder. 

For  parde,  ye  han  often  time  herd  telle, 
How  that  a  Frere  ravished  was  to  helle 
In  spirit  ones  by  a  visioun, 
And  as  an  angel  lad2  him  up  and  doun, 
To  shewen  him  the  peines  that  ther  were, 
In  all  the  place  saw  he  not  a  Frere, 
Of  other  folk  he  saw  ynow  in  wo. 

Unto  this  angel  spake  the  Frere  tho ; 
Now,  sire,  quod  he,  han  Freres  swiche  a  grace, 
That  non  of  hem  shal  comen  in  this  place  1 

Yes,  quod  this  angel,  many  a  millioun: 
And  unto  Sathanas  he  lad  him  doun. 
(And  now  hath  Sathanas,  saith  he,  a  tayl 
Broder  than  of  a  carrike3  is  the  sayl) 
Hold  up  thy  tayl,  thou  Sathanas,  quod  he, 
Shew  forth  thin  ers,  and  let  the  Frere  see 
"Wher  is  the  nest  of  Freres  in  this  place. 
And  er  than  half  a  furlong  way  of  space, 
Eight  so  as  bees  out  swarmen  of  an  hive, 
Out  of  the  devils  ers  ther  gonnen  drive 
A  twenty  thousand  Freres  on  a  route. 
And  thurghout  hell  they  swarmed  al  aboute, 

1  That  ye  suffer.  2  Led.  3  a  iarge  ei,jp. 


7278-7312.  THE   SOMPNOURES   TALE.  201 

And  com  agen,  as  fast  as  they  may  gon, 
And  in  his  ers  they  crepen  everich  on: 
He  clapt  his  tayl  agen,  and  lay  ful  still. 

This  Frere,  whan  he  loked  had  his  fill 
Upon  the  turments  oi  this  sory  place, 
His  spirit  God  restored  ot  his  grace 
Into  his  body  agen,  and  he  awoke ; 
But  natheles  tor  fere  yet  he  o^uoke, 
So  was  the  devils  ers  ay  in  his  mind, 
That  is  his  heritage  ot  veray  kind. 

God  save  you  alle,  save  this  cursed  irere; 
My  prologue  wol  I  end  in  this  manure. 


%\t  Bam$nwm  Sill. 

Lordings,  ther  is  in  Yorkshire,  as  I  gesse, 
A  mersh  contree  ycalled  Holdernesse, 
In  which  ther  went  a  limitour  aboute 
To  preche,  and  eke  to  beg,  it  is  no  doute. 
Ana  so  befell  that  on  a  day  this  frere 
Had  preched  at  a  chirche  in  his  munere, 
And  specially  aboven  every  thing 
Excited  he  the  peple  in  his  preching 
To  trentals,1  and  to  yeve  for  Goddes  sake, 
Wherwith  men  mighten  holy  houses  make, 
Ther  as  divine  service  is  honoured, 
Not  ther  as  it  is  wasted  and  devoured, 
Ne  ther  it  nedeth  not  for  to  be  yeven, 
As  to  possessioners,  that  mowen  leven 
(Thanked  be  God)  in  wele  and  abundance. 
Trentals,  sayd  he,  deliveren  fro  penance 
Hir  frendes  soules,  as  wel  olde  as  yonge, 
Ye,  whan  that  they  ben  hastily  ysonge, 
Not  for  to  hold  a  preest  jolif  and  gay, 
He  singeth  not  but  o  masse  on  a  day. 
Delivereth  out  (quod  he)  anon  the  soules. 
Ful  hard  it  is,  with  fleshhook  or  with  oules 

1 A  service  of  thirty  masses  for  the  dead. 


202  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  7313-7334. 

To  ben  yclawed,  or  to  bren  or  bake : 
Now  spede  you  hastily  for  Cristes  sake. 

And  whan  this  frere  had  said  all  his  entent, 
With  qui  cumpatre  forth  his  way  he  went. 
Whan  folk  in  chirche  had  yeve  him  what  hem  lest, 
He  went  his  way,  no  lenger  wold  he  rest, 
With  scrippe  and  tipped  staf,  ytucked  hie: 
In  every  hous  he  gan  to  pore  and  prie, 
And  begged  mele  and  chese,  or  elles  corn. 
His  felaw  had  a  staf  tipped  with  horn, 
A  pair  of  tables  all  of  ivory, 
And  a  pointel1  ypolished  fetisly, 
And  wrote  alway  the  names,  as  he  stood, 
Of  alle  folk  that  yave  hem  any  good, 
Askaunce2  that  he  wolde  for  hem  preye. 
Yeve  us  a  bushel  whete,  or  malt,  or  reye, 
A  Goddes  kichel,3  or  a  trippe4  of  chese, 
Or  elles  what  you  list,  we  may  not  chese  f 
A  Goddes  halfpeny,  or  a  masse  peny; 
Or  yeve  us  of  your  braun,  if  ye  have  any, 
A  dagon6  of  your  blanket,  leve  dame, 
Our  suster  dere,  (lo  here  I  write  your  name) 

1  Pencil,  style. 

•  The  Glossary  interprets  ascaunce  to  mean  askew,  aside,  sideways;  in  a 
tide  view  j  upon  what  authority  I  know  not.  It  will  be  better  to  examine 
the  other  passages  in  which  the  same  word  occurs,  before  we  determine 
the  sense  of  it.  See  ver.  16,  306  :  Ascaunce  that  craft  is  so  light  to  lere. — 
Tro.  i.  285 :  Ascaunce,  lo  1  is  this  not  wisely  spoken  ? — Ibid.  292 :  Ascaunce, 
what,  may  I  not  stonden  here? — Lydg.  Trag.  fol.  136,  b:  Ascaunce  I  am 
of  manors  most  chaungeable.  In  the  first  and  last  instance,  as  well  as  in 
the  text,  ascaunce  seems  to  signify  simply  as  if;  quasi.  In  the  two  others 
it  signifies  a  little  more ;  as  if  to  sag.  This  latter  signification  may  be 
clearly  established  from  the  third  line,  which  in  the  Italian  original  ( Filos- 
trato  di  Boccaccio,  1.  i.)  stands  thus :  Quasi  dicesse,  e  no  ci  si  puo  stare  ?  So 
that  ascaunce  is  there  equivalent  to  quasi  dicesse  in  Italian.— Tyrwhitt. 

3  "  It  was  called  a  Goddes  kichel,  because  godfathers  and  godmothers 
used  commonly  to  give  one  of  them  to  their  godchildren,  when  they  asked 
blessing."  Sp.  And  so  we  are  to  suppose  a  Goddes  halfpeny,  in  ver. 
7831,  was  called  for  the  same  reason,  &c.  But  this  is  all  gratis  dictum,  I 
believe.  The  phrase  is  French,  and  the  true  meaning  of  it  is  explained  by 
M.  de  la  Honnoye  in  a  note  upon  the  Lontes  de  B.  D.  Periers,  t.  ii.  p.  107. 
Belle  serrure  de  Dieu]  Expression  du  petit  peuple.qui  raporte  pieusement 
tout  a  Dieu. — Rien  n'est  plus  commun  dans  la  bouche  des  bonnes  vieilles, 
que  ces  especes  d' Hebraismes :  //  m'encoute  un  bet  ecu  de  Dieu;  line  use 
reste  que  cepauvre  enfant  de  Dieu;  Donez  moi  une  Unite  aumone  de  Dieu.— 
Tyrwhitt. 

*  A  small  piece.  *  Choose.  *  Slip. 


7335-7376.  THE  SOMPNOUKES  TALE.  203 

Bacon  or  beef,  or  swiche  thing  as  ye  find. 

A  sturdy  harlot  went  hem  ay  behind, 
That  was  hir  hostes  man,  and  bare  a  sakke, 
And  what  men  yave  hem,  laide  it  on  his  bakke. 
And  whan  that  he  was  out  at  dore,  anon 
He  planed  away  the  names  everich  on, 
That  he  before  had  written  in  his  tables: 
He  served  hem  with  nines'  and  with  fables. 

Nay,  ther  thou  liest,  thou  Sompnour,  quod  the  frere. 
Pees,  quod  our  hoste,  for  Cristes  moder  dere, 
Tell  forth  thy  tale,  and  spare  it  not  at  all. 

So  thrive  I,  quod  this  Sompnour,  so  I  shall. 

So  long  he  went  fro  hous  to  hous,  til  he 
Came  to  an  hous,  ther  he  was  wont  to  be 
Refreshed  more  than  in  a  hundred  places. 
Sike  lay  the  husbond  man,  whos  that  the  place  is, 
Bedred2  upon  a  couche  low  he  lay: 
Dens  hie,  quod  he,  O  Thomas  frend,  good  day, 
Sayde  this  frere  all  curtisly  and  soft. 
Thomas,  quod  he,  God  yelde  it  you,  ful  oft 
Have  I  upon  this  benche  faren  ful  wele, 
Here  have  I  eten  many  a  mery  mele. 
And  fro  the  benche  he  drove  away  the  cat» 
And  laied  adoun  his  potent3  and  his  hat, 
And  eke  his  scrip,  and  set  himself  adoun: 
His  felaw  was  ywalked  into  toun 
Forth  with  his  knave,  into  that  hostelrie, 
Wher  as  he  shope4  him  thilke  night  to  lie. 

O  dere  maister,  quod  this  sike  man, 
How  have  ye  faren  sin  that  March  began? 
I  saw  you  not  this  fourtene  night  and  more. 

God  wot,  quod  he,  laboured  nave  I  ful  sore, 
And  specially  for  thy  salvation 
Have  I  sayd  many  a  precious  orison, 
And  for  our  other  frendes,  God  hem  blesse. 
I  have  this  day  ben  at  your  chirche  at  messe, 
And  said  a  sermon  to  my  simple  wit, 
Not  all  after  the  text  of  holy  writ, 
For  it  is  hard  to  you,  as  I  suppose, 
And  therefore  wol  I  teche  you  ay  the  glose. 
Glosing  is  a  ful  glorious  thing  certain, 
For  letter  sleth,8  so  as  we  clerkes  sain. 

»  Trifles.  »  Bedridden.  «  Walking-stick. 

*  Shaped.  *  The  letter  killetb, 


204  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  7377-7418, 

Ther  have  I  taught  hem  to  be  charitable, 
And  spend  hir  good  ther  it  is  resonable. 
And  ther  I  saw  our  dame,  a,  wher  is  she? 

Yonder  I  trow  that  in  the  yard  she  be, 
Sayde  this  man,  and  she  wol  come  anon. 

Ey  maister,  welcome  be  ye  by  Seint  John, 
Sayde  this  wit,  how  fare  ye  hertily? 

This  frere  ariseth  up  ful  curtisly, 
And  hire  embraceth  in  his  armes  narwe, 
And  kisseth  hire  swete,  and  chirketh1  as  a  sparwe 
With  his  lippes:  dame,  quod  he,  right  wel, 
As  he  that  is  your  servant  every  del, 
Thanked  be  God,  that  you  yaf  soule  and  lif, 
Yet  saw  I  not  this  day  so  faire  a  wif 
In  all  the  chirche,  God  so  save  me. 

Ye,  God  amende  defautes,  sire,  quod  she, 
Algates  welcome  be  ye,  by  my  fay. 

Grand  mercy,  dame,  that  have  I  found  alway. 
But  of  your  grete  goodnesse,  by  your  leve, 
I  wolde  pray  you  that  ye  not  you  greve, 
I  wol  with  Thomas  speke  a  litel  throw:2 
Thise  curates  ben  so  negligent  and  slow 
To  gropen  tendrely  a  conscience. 
In  shrift,  in  preching  is  my  diligence 
And  study,  in  Peters  wordes  and  in  Poules, 
I  walke  and  fisshe  Cristen  mennes  soules, 
To  yeld  our  Lord  Jesu  his  propre  rent; 
To  sprede  his  word  is  sette  all  min  entent. 

Now  by  your  faith,  o  dere  sire,  quod  she, 
Chideth  him  wel  for  Seinte  Charitee. 
He  is  ay  angry  as  is  a  pissemire, 
Though  that  he  have  all  that  he  can  desire, 
Though  I  him  wrie3  a-night,  and  make  him  warm, 
And  over  him  lay  my  leg  and  eke  min  arm, 
He  groneth  as  our  bore,  lith  in  our  stie : 
Other  disport  of  him  right  non  have  I, 
I  may  not  plese  him  in  no  maner  cas. 

O  Thomas,  jeo  votis  die,  Thomas,  Thomas, 
This  maketh  the  fend,  this  muste  ben  amended. 
Ire  is  a  thing  that  high  God  hath  defended, 
And  therof  wol  I  speke  a  word  or  two. 

Now,  maister,  quod  the  wif,  er  that  I  go, 

IChirpetlu  'Time.  'Cover. 


7419-7460.  THE  SOMFNOUBES  TALE.  205 

What  wol  ye  dine  ?  I  wol  go  theraboute. 

Now,  dame,  quod  he^'eo  vous  die  aanz  doute 
Have  I  nat  of  a  capon  but  the  liver, 
And  of  your  white  bred  nat  but  a  shiver, 
And  after  that  a  rosted  pigges  hed, 
(But  I  ne  wolde  for  me  no  beest  were  ded) 
Than  had  I  with  you  homly  suffisance. 
I  am  a  man  oi  litel  sustenance. 
My  spirit  hath  his  fostring  in  the  Bible. 
My  body  is  ay  so  redy  and  so  penible1 
To  waken,  that  my  stomak  is  destroied. 
I  pray  you,  dame,  that  ye  be  nought  annoied, 
Though  I  so  frendly  you  my  conseil  she  we; 
By  God  I  n'old  have  told  it  but  a  iewe. 

Now,  sire,  quod  she,  but  o  word  er  I  go. 
My  child  is  ded  within  thise  wekes  two, 
Sone  after  that  ye  went  out  oi  this  toun. 

His  deth  saw  I  by  revelatioun, 
Sayde  this  frere,  at  home  in  our  dortour.3 
I  dare  wel  sain,  that  er  than  half  an  hour 
After  his  deth,  I  saw  him  borne  to  blisoe 
In  min  avision,  so  God  me  wisse. 
So  did  our  sextein,  and  our  iermerere,3 
That  ban  ben  trewe  freres  fifty  yere  ; 
They  may  now,  God  be  thanked  of  his  lone,4 
Maken  hir  jubilee,  and  walke  alone. 
And  up  I  arose,  and  all  our  covent  eke, 
With  many  a  tere  trilling  on  our  cheke, 
Withouten  noise  or  clatering  of  belles, 
Te  deum  was  our  song,  and  nothing  elles, 
Save  that  to  Crist  I  bade  an  orison, 
Thanking  him  of  my  revelation. 
For,  sire  and  dame,  trusteth  me  right  wel, 
Our  orisons  ben  more  effectuel, 
And  more  we  seen  of  Cristes  secree  thinges, 
Than  borel5  folk,  although  that  they  be  kinges. 
We  live  in  poverte,  and  in  abstinence, 
And  borel  folk  in  richesse  and  dispence 
Oi  mete  and  drinke,  and  in  hir  foule  delit. 
We  han  this  worldes  lust  all  in  despit. 
Lazar  and  Dives  liveden  diversely, 
And  divers  guerdon  hadden  they  therby. 

1  Painstaking.  »  Dormitory.  »  Keeper  of  the  infirmary. 

4  Loan,  gift.  *  Common.   See  on  ver.  5988. 

18 


206  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  7461-7502. 

Who  so  wol  pray,  he  must  fast  and  be  clene, 
And  fat  his  soule,  and  make  his  body  lene. 
We  fare,  as  sayth  the  apostle ;  cloth  and  food 
Sufficeth  us,  though  they  be  not  ful  good. 
The  clenenesse  and  the  fasting  of  us  freres, 
Maketh  that  Crist  accepteth  our  praieres. 

Lo,  Moises  forty  daies  and  forty  night 
Fasted,  er  that  the  high  God  ful  of  might 
Spake  with  him  in  the  mountagne  of  Sinay 
With  empty  wombe  of  fasting  many  a  day, 
Received  he  the  lawe,  that  was  writen 
With  Goddes  finger ;  and  Eli,  wel  ye  witen, 
In  mount  Oreb,  er  he  had  any  speche 
With  highe  God,  that  is  our  lives  leche,1 
He  fasted  long,  and  was  in  contemplance. 

Aaron,  that  had  the  temple  in  governance, 
And  eke  the  other  preestes  everich  on, 
Into  the  temple  whan  they  shulden  gon 
To  praien  for  the  peple,  and  do  servise, 
They  n'olden  drinken  in  no  maner  wise 
No  drinke,  which  that  might  hem  dronken  make, 
But  ther  in  abstinence  pray  and  wake, 
Lest  that  they  deiden  :2  take  heed  what  I  say- 
But  they  be  sobre  that  for  the  peple  pray— 
Ware  that  I  say — no  more:  for  it  sufficeth. 
Our  Lord  Jesu,  as  holy  writ  deviseth, 
Yave  us  ensample  of  fasting  and  praieres : 
Therfore  we  mendiants,  we  sely3  freres, 
Ben  wedded  to  poverte  and  continence, 
To  charitee,  humblesse,  and  abstinence, 
To  persecution  for  rightwisue3se, 
To  weping,  misericorde,  and  to  clenenesse. 
And  therfore  may  ye  see  that  our  praieres 
(I  speke  of  us,  we  mendiants,4  we  freres) 
Ben  to  the  highe  God  more  acceptable 
Than  youres,  with  your  festes  at  your  table. 

Fro  Paradis  first,  if  I  shal  not  lie, 
Was  man  out  chased  for  his  glotonie, 
And  chast  was  man  in  Paradis  certain. 
But  herken  now,  Thomas,  what  I  shal  sain, 
I  have  no  text  of  it,  as  I  suppose, 
But  I  shal  find  it  in  a  maner  glose  ;5 

1  Physician.  3  Died.  »  Harmless. 

4  Mendicants.  *  A  sort  of  gloss  or  note. 


7503-7514.  THE  SOMPNOURES  TALE.  207 

That  specially  our  swete  Lord  Jesus 

Spake  this  by  freres,  whan  he  sayde  thus, 

Blessed  be  they  that  poure  in  spirit  ben. 

And  so  forth  all  the  gospel  may  ye  sen, 

Whether  it  be  liker  our  profession, 

Or  hirs  that  swimmen  in  possession, 

Fie  on  hir  pompe,  and  on  hir  glotonio, 

And  on  hir  lewednesse :  I  hem  defie. 

Me  thinketh  they  ben  like  Jovinian, 

Fat  as  a  whale,  and  walken  as  a  swan  ; 

Al  vinolent  as  botel  in  the  spence  j1 

Hir  praier  is  of  ful  gret  reverence ; 

"Whan  they  for  soules  say  the  Psalm  of  Davit, 

Lo,  buf  they  say,  Cor  meum  eructavit. 

Who  foloweth  Cristes  gospel  and  his  lore 
But  we,  that  humble  ben,  and  chast,  and  pore, 
Workers  of  Goddes  word,  not  auditours? 
Therfore  right  as  an  hauke  upon  a  sours* 
Up  springeth  into  the  aire,  right  so  praieres 
Of  charitable  and  chast  besy  freres, 
Maken  hir  sours  to  Goddes  eres3  two. 
Thomas,  Thomas,  so  mote  I  ride  or  go, 
And  by  that  lord  that  cleped  is  Seint  Ive, 
N'ere  thou  our  broder,  shuldest  thou  not  thrive. 
In  our  chapitre  pray  we  day  and  night 
To  Crist,  that  he  thee  sende  hele  and  might 
Thy  body  for  to  welden4  hastily. 

God  wot,  quod  he,  nothing  therof  fele  I, 
As  help  me  Crist,  as  I  in  fewe  yeres 
Have  spended  upon  divers  maner  freres 
Ful  many  a  pound,  yet  fare  I  never  the  bet; 
Certain  my  good  have  I  almost  beset:5 
Farewel  my  good,  for  it  is  al  ago. 

The  frere  answered,  O  Thomas,  dost  thou  so  t 
What  nedeth  you  diverse  freres  to  seche? 
What  nedeth  him  that  hath  a  parfit  leche, 
To  sechen  other  leches  in  the  toun  ? 
Your  inconstance  is  your  confusion. 
Hold  ye  than  me,  or  elles  our  covent, 
To  pray  for  you  ben  insufficient  ? 
Thomas,  that  jape  n'is  not  worth  a  mite ; 
Your  maladie  is  tor  we  han  to  lite. 

» Store-room.  * Rise.  ■  EMfc 

*  Govern.  5  Employed,  spent. 


208  THE  CANTERBURY  TALE3.  7545-7686. 

A,  yeve  that  covent  half  a  quarter  otes ; 
And  yeve  that  covent  four  and  twenty  grotes; 
And  yeve  that  frere  a  peny,  and  let  him  go: 
Nay,  nay,  Thomas,  it  may  no  thing  be  so. 
What  is  a  ferthing  worth  parted  on  twelve  i 
Lo,  eche  thing  that  is  oned1  in  himselve 
Is  more  strong  than  whan  it  is  yscatered. 
Thomas,  of  me  thou  shalt  not  ben  yflatered, 
Thou  woldest  han  our  labour  al  for  nought. 
The  highe  God,  that  all  this  world  hath  wrought, 
Saith,  that  the  workman  worthy  is  his  hire. 
Thomas,  nought  of  your  tresor  I  desire 
As  for  mysell,  but  that  all  our  covent 
To  pray  for  you. is  ay  so  diligent: 
And  for  to  bilden  Cristes  owen  chirche. 
Thomas,  if  ye  wol  lernen  for  to  wirche,3 
01  bilding  up  of  chirches  may  ye  finde 
It  it  be  good,  in  Thomas  lif  of  Inde. 

Ye  liggen  here  ful  of  anger  and  of  ire, 
With  which  the  devil  set  your  herte  on  fire, 
And  chiden  here  this  holy  innocent 
Your  wif,  that  is  so  good  and  patient. 
And  therlore  trow  me,  Thomas,  it  thee  lest, 
Ne  strive  not  with  thy  wif,  as  for  the  best. 
And  here  this  word  away  now  by  thy  faith, 
Touching  swiche  thing,  lo,  what  the  wise  saith: 

Within  thy  hous  ne  be  thou  no  leon; 
To  thy  suggets3  do  non  oppression ; 
Ne  make  thou  not  thin  acquaintance  to  flee. 

And  yet,  Thomas,  eftsones  charge  I  thee, 
Beware  from  ire  that  in  thy  bosom  slepeth, 
Ware  fro  the  serpent,  that  so  slily  crepeth 
Under  the  gras,  and  stingeth  subtilly. 
Beware,  my  sone,  and  herken  patiently, 
That  twenty  thousand  men  han  lost  hir  lives 
For  striving  with  hir  lemmans  and  hir  wives. 
Now  sith  ye  han  so  holy  and  meek  a  wif, 
What  nedeth  you,  Thomas,  to  maken  strif  ? 
Ther  n'is  ywis  no  serpent  so  cruel, 
Whan  man  tredeth  on  his  tail,  ne  half  so  fel, 
As  woman  is,  whan  she  hath  caught  an  ire; 
Veray4  vengeance  is  than  all  hire  desire. 

i  United.  *  Work. 

•  Sutijects.  *  True. 


7587-7626.  THE  SOMPNOURES  TALE.  209 

Ire  is  a  sinne,  on  of  the  grete  seven, 
Abhominable  unto  the  God  of  heven, 
And  to  himself  it  is  destruction. 
This  every  lewed1  vicar  and  parson 
Can  say,  how  ire  engendreth  homicide; 
Ire  is  in  soth  executour  of  pride. 

I  coud  of  ire  say  so  mochel  sorwe, 
My  tale  shulde  lasten  til  to-morwe. 
And  therfore  pray  I  God  both  day  and  night, 
An  irous2  man  God  send  him  litel  might. 
It  is  gret  harm,  and  certes  gret  pitee 
To  sette  an  irous  man  in  high  degree. 

Whilom  ther  was  an  irous  potestat, 
As  saith  Senek,3  that  during  his  estat 
Upon  a  day  out  riden  knightes  two. 
And,  as  fortune  wold  that  it  were  so, 
That  on  of  hem  came  home,  that  other  nought. 
Anon  the  knight  before  the  juge  is  brought. 
That  saide  thus ;  thou  hast  thy  felaw  slain, 
For  which  I  deme  thee  to  the  deth  certain. 
And  to  another  knight  commanded  he; 
Ge,  lede  him  to  the  deth,  I  charge  thee. 
And  happed,  as  they  wenten  by  the  wey 
Toward  the  place  ther  as  he  shulde  dey, 
The  knight  came,  which  men  wenden4  had  be  dede. 
Than  though  ten  they  it  was  the  beste  rede 
To  lede  hem  bothe  to  the  juge  again. 
They  saiden,  lord,  the  knight  ne  hath  not  slain 
His  felaw,  here  he  stondeth  hoi  alive. 

Ye  ahull  be  ded,  quod  he,  so  mot  I  thrive, 
That  is  to  say,  both  on,  and  two,  and  three. 
And  to  the  firste  knight  right  thus  spake  he. 

I  damned5  thee,  thou  must  algate  be  ded: 
And  thou  also  must  nedes  lese  thyn  hed, 
For  thou  art  cause  why  thy  felaw  deyeth. 
And  to  the  thridde  knight  right  thus  he  seyeth, 
Thou  hast  not  don  that  I  commanded  thee. 
And  thus  he  did  do  slen  hem  alle  three. 

Irous  Cambises  was  eke  dronkelew,6 
And  ay  delighted  him  to  ben  a  shrew. 
1  Simple,  unlearned.  8  Angry. 

3  This  6tory  is  told  of  Cn.  PUo,  by  Seneca  de  Ira,  i.  c.  xvi.,  and  of  an 
Emperor  Heraclius,  in  the  Gesta  Rom.  c.  cxi.— JyruAi'H. 

*  Thought.  *  Condemned. 

*  Drunken,  given  to  drink.    See  Seneca  de  Ira,  iii.  14. 

18* 


210  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  7627-7666. 

And  so  befell,  a  lord  of  his  meinie,1 

That  loved  vertuous  moralitee, 

Sayd  on  a  day  betwix  hem  two  right  thus 

A  lord  is  lost,  if  he  be  vicious ; 

And  dronkennesse  is  eke  a  foule  record 

Of  any  man,  and  namely-  of  a  lord. 

Ther  is  ful  many  an  eye  and  many  an  ere 

Awaiting  on  a  lord,  and  he  n'ot  wher. 

For  Goddes  love  drinke  more  attemprely:* 

Win4  maketh  man  to  lesen5  wretchedly 

His  mind,  and  eke  his  limmes  everich  on. 

The  revers  shalt  thou  see,  quod  he,  anon, 

And  preve  it  by  thyn  owen  experience, 

That  win  ne  doth  to  folk  no  swiche  offence. 

Ther  is  no  win  bereveth  me  my  might 

Of  hond,  ne  foot,  ne  of  min  eyen  sight. 

And  for  despit  he  dranke  mochel  more 

An  hundred  part  than  he  had  don  before, 

And  right  anon,  this  cursed  irous  wretche 

This  knightes  sone  let  before  him  fetche, 

Commanding  him  he  shuld  before  him  stond: 

And  sodenly  he  took  his  bow  in  hond, 

And  up  the  streng  he  pulled  to  his  ere, 

And  with  an  arwe  he  slow  the  child  right  ther. 

Now  whether  have  I  a  siker6  hond  or  non? 
Quod  he,  Is  all  my  might  and  minde  agon? 
Hath  win  bereved  me  min  eyen  sight? 

What  shuld  I  tell  the  answer  of  the  knight  J 
His  son  was  slain,  ther  is  no  more  to  say. 
Beth  ware7  therfore  with  lordes  for  to  play, 
Singeth8  Placebo,  and  I  shal  if  I  can, 
But  if  it  be  unto  a  poure  man : 
To  a  poure  man  men  shuld  his  vices  telle, 
But  not  to  a  lord,  though  he  shuld  go  to  helle 

Lo,  irous  Cirus,9  thilke  Persien,10 
How  he  destroyed  the  river  of  Gisen,11 
For  that  an  hors  of  his  was  dreint12  therin, 
Whan  that  he  wente  Babilon  to  win: 
He  made  that  the  river  was  so  smal, 
That  wimmen  might  it  waden  over  al. 

1  Court.  *  Especially.  *  Temperately. 

*  Wine.  *  Lose.  •  Sickly,  unsteady. 

1  Beware  ye  how  ye  play,  &c  8  Sing.  •  Cyrus. 

10  /. «.,  also  a  Version.  «  Gyndes.  "  Drowned. 


7667-7706.  TTIE  SOMPNOURES  TALE.  211 

Lo,  what  said  he,  that  sq  wel  techen  can  ? 
Ne  be  no  felaw  to  non  irous  man, 
Ne  with  no  wood1  man  walke  by  the  way, 
Lest  thee  repent;  I  wol  no  farther  say. 

Now,  Thomas,  leve  brother,  leve  thin  ire, 
Thou  shalt  me  find  as  just,  as  is  a  squire ; 
Hold  not  the  devils  knif  ay  to  thin  herte, 
Thin  anger  doth  thee  all  to  sore  smerte, 
But  shew  to  me  all  thy  confession. 

Nay,  quod  the  sike  man,  by  Seint  Simon, 
I  have  ben  shriven  this  day  of  my  curat; 
I  have  him  told  al  holly2  min  estat. 
Nedeth  no  mo  to  speke  of  it,  sayth  he, 
But  if  me  list  of  min  humilitee. 

Yeve  me  tlian  of  thy  gold  to  make  our  cloistre, 
Quod  he,  for  many  a  muscle  and  many  an  oistre, 
Whan  other  men  han  ben  ful  wel  at  ese, 
Hath  been  our  food,  our  cloistre  for  to  rese;* 
And  yet,  God  wot,  uneth4  the  fundament 
Parfourmed  is,  ne  of  our  pavement 
N'is  not  a  tile  yet  within  our  wones  :* 
By  God  we  owen  fourty  pound  for  stones. 
Now  help,  Thomas,  for  him  that  harwed*  helle, 
For  elles  mote  we  oure  bokes  selle, 
And  if  ye  lacke  oure  predication,7 
Than  goth  this  world  all  to  destruction 
For  who  so  fro  this  world  wold  us  bereve, 
So  God  me  save,  Thomas,  by  your  leve, 
He  wold  bereve  out  of  this  world  the  sonne. 
For  who  can  teche  and  worken  as  we  conne  ? 
And  that  is  not  of  litel  time,  (quod  he) 
But  sithen  Elie  was,  and  Elisee, 
Han  freres  ben,  that  find  I  of  record, 
In  charitee,  ythonked  be  our  Lord. 
Now,  Thomas,  help  for  Seinte  Charitee. 

And  doun  anon  he  sette  him  on  his  knee. 

This  sike  man  woxe  wel  neigh  wood  for  ire, 
He  wolde  that  the  frere  had  ben  a-fire 
With  his  false  dissimulation. 

Swiche  thing  as  is  in  my  possession, 

1  Mad.  a  Wholly.  a  Raise. 

*  Scarcely,  i.e.,  not  yet.  *  Dwelling*. 

'  Harassed,  terrified.  7  Preaching. 


212  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  7707-7748. 

Quod  he,  that  may  I  yeve  you  and  non  other: 
Ye  sain  me  thus,  how  that  I  am  your  brother. 
Ye  certes,  quod  this  frere,  ye,  trusteth  wel ; 
I  took  our  dame  the  letter  of  our  sele. 

Now  wel,  quod  he,  and  somwhat  shal  I  yeve 
Unto  your  holy  covent  while  I  live ; 
And  in  thin  hond  thou  shalt  it  have  anon, 
On  this  condition,  and  other  non, 
That  thou  depart1  it  so,  my  dere  brother, 
That  every  frere  have  as  moche  as  other: 
This  shalt  thou  swere  on  thy  profession 
Withouten  fraud  or  cavitation. 

I  swere  it,  quod  the  frere,  upon  my  faith. 
And  therwithall  his  hond  in  his  he  layth ; 
Lo  here  my  faith,  in  me  shal  be  ncjak. 

Than  put  thin  hond  adoun  right  by  my  bak, 
Saide  this  man,  and  grope  wel  behind, 
Benethe  my  buttok,  ther  thou  shalte  find 
A  thing,  that  I  have  hid  in  privetee. 
A,  thought  this  frere,  that  shal  go  with  me. 
And  doun  his  hond  he  launcheth  to  the  clifte,8 
In  hope  for  to  finden  ther  a  gifte. 

And  whan  this  sike  man  felte  this  frere 
About  his  towel  gropen  ther  and  here, 
Amid  his  hond  he  let  the  frere  a  fart ; 
Ther  n'is  no  capel  drawing  in  a  cart, 
That  might  han  let  a  fart  of  swiche  a  soun. 

The  frere  up  sterte,  as  doth  a  wood  leoun 
A,  false  cherl,  quod  he,  for  Goddes  bones, 
This  hast  thou  in  despit  don  for  the  nones: 
Thou  shalt  abie3  this  fart,  if  that  I  may. 

His  meinie,4  which  that  herden  this  affray, 
Came  leping  in,  and  chased  out  the  frere, 
And  forth  he  goth  with  a  ful  angry  chere, 
And  fet5  his  felaw,  ther  as  lay  his  store: 
He  loked  as  it  were  a  wilde  bore, 
And  grinte  with  his  teeth,  so  was  he  wroth. 
A  sturdy  pas  doun  to  the  court  he  goth, 
Wher  as  ther  woned6  a  man  of  gret  honour, 
To  whom  that  he  was  alway  conlessour : 
This  worthy  man  was  lord  of  that  village. 
This  frere  came,  as  he  were  in  a  rage, 

»  Divide.  3  Cleft.  3  Suffer  for. 

♦Servant*    .  6  Fetched.  6  Dwelt. 


7749-7790.  THE  SOMPNOURES  TALE.  213 

Wher  as  this  lord  sat  eting  at  his  bord: 
Unnethes  might  the  frere  speke  o  word, 
Til  atte  last  he  saide,  God  you  see. 

This  lord  gan  loke,  and  saide,  Benedicitef 
What?  frere  John,  what  maner  world  is  this? 
I  see  wel  that  som  thing  ther  is  amis ; 
Ye  loken  as  the  wood  were  ful  ol  theves. 
Sit  doun  anon,  and  tell  me  what  your  greve  is, 
And  it  shal  ben  amended,  if  I  may. 

I  have,  quod  he,  had  a  despit  to  day, 
God  yelde  you,  adoun  in  your  village, 
That  in  this  world  ther  n'is  so  poure  a  page, 
That  he  n'olde  have  abhominatioun 
Of  that  I  have  received  in  youre  toun: 
And  yet  ne  greveth  me  nothing  so  sore, 
As  that  the  olde  cherl,  with  lokkes  hore, 
Blasphemed  hath  oure  holy  covent  eke. 

Now,  maister,  quod  this  lord,  I  you  beseke. 

No  maister,  sire,  quod  he,  but  servitour, 
Though  I  have  had  in  scole  that  honour. 
God  liketh  not,  that  men  us  Rabi  call, 
Neither  in  market,  ne  in  your  large  hall. 

No  force,1  quod  he,  but  tell  me  all  your  grefe. 

Sire,  quod  this  Frere,  an  odious  meschefe 
This  day  betid  is  to  min  ordre,  and  me, 
And  so  per  consequent  to  eche  degree 
Of  holy  chirche,  God  amende  it  sone. 

Sire,  quod  the  lord,  ye  wot  what  is  to  don 
Distempre  you  not,  ye  ben  my  confessour. 
Ye  ben  the  salt  of  the  erthe,  and  the  savour; 
For  Goddes  love  your  patience  now  hold ; 
Telle  me  your  grefe.    And  he  anon  him  told 
As  ye  han  herd  before,  ye  wot  wel  what. 

The  lady  of  the  hous  ay  stille  sat, 
Til  she  had  herde  what  the  Frere  said. 

Ey,  goddes  moder,  quod  she,  blisful  maid, 
Is  ther  ought  elles?  tell  me  faithfully. 
Madame,  quod  he,  how  thinketh  you  therby? 
How  that  me  thinketh?  quod  she;  so  God  me  spede, 
I  say,  a  cherle  hath  don  a  cherles  dede. 
What  shuld  I  say  ?  God  let  him  never  the  f 
His  sike  hed  is  ful  of  vanitee ; 
I  hold  him  in  a  maner  frenesie. 
t  No  matter.  a  Never  fare  well,  or  prosper. 


214  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  7791-7832. 

Madame,  quod  he,  by  God  I  shal  not  lie, 
But  I  in  other  wise  may  ben  awreke.1 
I  shal  diffame  him  over  all,  ther  I  speke ; 
This  false  blasphemour,  that  charged  me 
To  parten  that  wol  not  departed  be, 
To  every  man  ylike,  with  meschance. 

The  lord  sat  stille,  as  he  were  in  a  trance, 
And  in  his  herte  he  rolled  up  and  doun, 
How  had  this  cherl  imaginatioun 
To  shewen  swiche  a  probleme  to  the  frere. 
Never  erst  or  now  ne  herd  I  swiche  matere; 
I  trow  the  Devil  put  it  in  his  mind. 
In  all  Arsmetrike2  shal  ther  no  man  find 
Beforn  this  day  of  swiche  a  question. 
Who  shulde  make  a  demonstration, 
That  every  man  shuld  han  ylike  his  part 
As  of  a  soun  or  savour  of  a  fart? 

0  nice  proude  cherl,  I  shrewe  his  face.3 

Lo,  sires,  quod  the  lord,  with  harde  grace, 
Who  ever  herd  of  swiche  a  thing  or  now  ? 
To  every  man  ylike  ?  tell  me  how. 
It  is  an  impossible,  it  may  not  be. 
Ey,  nice  cherl,  God  let  him  never  the.4 
The  rombling  of  a  fart,  and  every  soun, 
N'is  but  of  aire  reverberatioun, 
And  ever  it  wasteth  lite  and  lite  away; 
Ther  n'is  no  man  can  demen,  by  my  fay, 
If  that  it  were  departed  equally. 
What  ?  lo  my  cherl,  lo  yet  how  shrewedly 
Unto  my  confessour  to-day  he  spake ; 

1  hold  him  certain  a  demoniake. 

Now  ete  your  mete,  and  let  the  cherl  go  play, 
Let  him  go  honge  himself  a  devil  way. 

Now  stood  the  lordes  squier  atte  bord, 
That  carf  his  mete,  and  herde  word  by  word 
Of  all  this  thing,  of  which  I  have  you  sayd. 

My  lord,  quod  he,  be  ye  not  evil  apaid, 
I  coude  telle  for  a  goune-cloth5 
To  you,  sire  frere,  so  that  ye  be  not  wroth, 
How  that  this  fart  should  even  ydeled5  be 
Amonge  your  covent,  if  it  hiked  thee. 

I  Avenged.  2  Arithmetic.  3  Curse  his  impudence. 

*  Thrive.  5  Stuff  enough  to  make  a  gown.  6  Distributed. 


7833-7876.  THE  SOMPNOURES  TALE.  215 

Tell,  quod  the  lord,  and  thou  shalt  have  anon 
A  goune-cloth,  by  God  and  by  seint  John. 

My  lord,  quod  he,  whan  that  the  weder  is  faire, 
Withouten  winde,  or  pertourbing  of  aire, 
Let  bring  a  cart-whele  here  into  this  hall, 
But  loke  that  it  have  his  spokes  all; 
Twelf  spokes  hath  a  cart-whele  communly ; 
And  bring  me  than  twelf  freres,  wete  ye  why? 
For  threttene  is  a  covent  as  I  gesse : 
Your  confessour  here  for  his  worthinesse 
Shal  parfourme  up  the  noumbre  of  his  covent. 
Than  shull  they  knele  adoun  by  on  assent, 
And  to  every  spokes  end  in  this  manere 
Ful  sadly  lay  his  nose  shal  a  frere ; 
Your  noble  confessour,  ther  God  him  save, 
Shal  hold  his  nose  upright  under  the  nave. 
Than  shal  this  cherl,  with  bely  stif  and  tought 
As  any  tabour,  hider  ben  ybrought; 
And  set  him  on  the  whele  right  of  this  cart 
Upon  the  nave,  and  make  him  let  a  fart, 
And  ye  shull  seen,  up  peril  of  my  lif, 
By  veray  preef  that  is  demonstratif, 
That  equally  the  soun  of  it  wol  wende, 
And  eke  the  stinke,  unto  the  spokes  ende, 
Save  that  this  worthy  man,  your  confessour, 
(Because  he  is  a  man  of  gret  honour) 
Shal  han  the  firste  fruit,  as  reson  is. 
The  noble  usage  of  freres  yet  it  is, 
The  worthy  men  of  hem  shul  first  be  served. 
And  certainly  he  hath  it  wel  deserved ; 
He  hath  to-day  taught  us  so  mochel  good, 
"With  preching  in  the  pulpit  ther  he  stood, 
That  I  may  vouchesauf,  I  say  for  me, 
He  hadde  the  firste  smel  of  fartes  three, 
And  so  wold  all  his  brethren  hardely, 
He  bereth  him  so  faire  and  holyly. 

The  lord,  the  lady,  and  eche  man,  save  the  frere, 
Sayden,  that  Jankin  spake  in  this  matere 
As  wel  as  Euclide,  or  elles  Ptholomee. 
Touching  the  cherl,  they  sayden,  subtiltee 
And  highe  wit  made  him  speken  as  he  spake; 
He  n'is  no  fool,  ne  no  demoniake. 
And  Jankin  hath  ywonne  a  newe  goune; 
My  tale  is  don,  we  ben  almost  at  toune. 


216 

THE  CLERKES  PROLOGUE 

7877-7908. 

Sire  Clerk  oi  Oxenforde,  our  hoste  said, 
Ye  ride  as  stille  and  coy,  as  doth  a  maid, 
Were1  newe  spoused,  sitting  at  the  bord : 
This  day  ne  herd  I  of  your  tonge  a  word. 
I  trow  ye  studie  abouten  som  sophime: 
But  Salomon  saith,  that  every  thing  hath  time. 
For  Goddes  sake  as  beth2  of  better  chere, 
It  is  no  time  for  to  studien  here. 
Tell  us  som  mery  tale  by  your  fay ; 
For  what  man  that  is  entred  in  a  play, 
He  nedes  most  unto  the  play  assent. 
But  precheth  not,  as  freres  don  in  Lent, 
To  make  us  for  our  olde  sinnes  wepe, 
Ne  that  thy  tale  make  us  not  to  slepe. 

Tell  us  som  mery  thing  of  aventures, 
Your  termes,  your  coloures,  and  your  figures, 
Kepe  hem  in  store,  til  so  be  ye  endite 
Hie  stile,  as  whan  that  men  to  kinges  write. 
Speketh  so  plain  at  this  time,  I  you  pray, 
That  we  may  understonden  what  ye  say. 

This  worthy  Clerk  benignely  answerde ; 
Hoste,  quod  he,  I  am  under  your  yerde,3 
Ye  have  of  us  as  now  the  governance, 
And  therfore  wolde  I  do  you  obeysance, 
As  fer  as  reson  asketh  hardely:4 
I  wol  you  tell  a  tale,  which  that  I 
Lerned  at  Padowe5  of  a  worthy  clerk, 
As  preved  by  his  wordes  and  his  werk. 
He  is  now  ded,  and  nailed  in  his  cheste, 
I  pray  to  God  so  yeve  his  soule  reste. 

Fraunceis  Petrark,  the  laureat  poete, 
Highte  this  clerk,  whos  rethorike  swete 

*  Who  were.  8  Do  be.  3  staff,  i.e.,  control. 

*  Certainly.  5  Padua. 


Y«  Clerkes  Tale. 


7909-7942.  THE  CLERKES  TALE.  217 

Enlumined  all  Itaille  of  poetrie, 

As  Lynyan1  did  of  philosophie, 

Or  law,  or  other  art  particulere : 

But  deth,  that  wol  not  suffre  us  dwellen  here, 

But  as  it  were  a  twinkling  of  an  eye, 

Hem  both  hath  slaine,  and  alle  we  shul  dye, 

But  forth  to  tellen  of  this  worthy  man, 
That  taughte  me  this  tale,  as  I  began, 
I  say  that  first  he  with  hie  stile  enditeth. 
(Or  he  the  body  of  his  tale  writeth) 
A  proheme,  in  the  which  descriveth  ha 
Piemont,  and  of  Saluces  the  contree, 
And  speketh  of  Apennin  the  nilles  hie, 
That  ben  the  boundes  of  west  Lumbardie: 
And  of  mount  Vesulus  in  special, 
Wher  as  the  Poo  out  of  a  welle  smal 
Taketh  his  firste  springing  and  his  sours, 
That  estward  ay  encreseth  in  his  cours 
To  Emelie2  ward,  to  Ferare,  and  Venise, 
The  which  a  longe  thing  were  to  devise. 
And  trewely,  as  to  my  jugement, 
Me  thinketh  it  a  thing  impertinent, 
Save  that  he  wol  conveyen  his  matere : 
But  this  is  the  tale  which  that  ye  mow  here. 


Ther  is  right  at  the  West/  side  of  Itaille 

Doun  at  the  rote  of  Vesulus  the  cold, 

A  lusty  plain,  habundant  of  vitaille, 

Ther  many  a  toun  and  tour  thou  maist  behold, 

That  founded  were  in  time  of  fathers  old, 

And  many  another  delitable  sighte, 

And  Saluces  this  noble  contree  highte. 

A  markis  whilom  lord  was  of  that  lond, 
As  were  his  worthy  elders  him  before, 
And  obeysant,  ay  redy  to  his  hond, 

*  An  early  lawyer  of  Milan,  skilled  in  astrology  and  other  sciences.— 
See  Tyrwhitu  -  A  part  of  Italy,  so  called  from  the  via  JEmitia, 

19 


218  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  7945-7981. 

Were  all  his  lieges,  bothe  lesse  and  more: 
Thus  in  delit  he  liveth,  and  hath  don  yore, 
Beloved  and  drad,  thurgh  favour  of  fortune, 
Both  of  his  lordes,  and  of  his  commune. 

Therwith  he  was,  to  speken  of  linage, 
The  gentilest  yborne  of  Lumbardie, 
A  faire  person,  and  strong,  and  yong  of  age, 
And  ful  of  honour  and  of  curtesie: 
Discret  ynough,  his  contree  for  to  gie,1 
Sauf  in  som  thinges  that  he  was  to  blame, 
And  "Walter  was  this  yonge  lordes  name. 

I  blame  him  thus,  that  he  considered  nought 
In  time  coming  what  might  him  betide, 
But  on  his  lust  present  was  all  his  thought, 
And  for  to  hauke  and  hunt  on  every  side: 
Wei  neigh  all  other  cures  let  he  slide, 
And  eke  he  n'old  (and  that  was  worst  of  all) 
Wedden  no  wif  for  ought  that  might  befall. 

Only  that  point  his  peple  bare  so  sore, 
That  flockmel2  on  a  day  to  him  they  went, 
And  on  of  hem,  that  wisest  was  of  lore,3 
(Or  elles  that  the  lord  wold  hest  assent 
That  he  shuld  tell  him  what  the  peple  ment, 
Or  elles  coud  he  wel  shew  swiche  matere) 
He  to  the  markls  said  as  ye  shull  here. 

O  noble  markis,  your  humanitee 
Assureth  us  and  yeveth  us  hardinesse,4 
As  oft  as  time  is  of  necessitee, 
That  we  to  you  mow  tell  our  hevinesse : 
Accepteth,  lord,  than  of  your  gentillesse, 
That  we  with  pitous  herte  unto  you  plaine, 
And  let  your  eres  nat  my  vois  disdaine. 

Al  have  I  not  to  don  in  this  matere 
More  than  another  man  hath  in  this  place, 
Yet  for  as  moch  as  ye,  my  lord  so  dere, 
Han  alway  shewed  me  favour  and  grace,, 
I  dare  the  better  aske  of  you  a  space 
Of  audience,  to  shewen  pur  request, 
And  ye,  my  lord,  to  don  right  as  you  lest. 

1  Guide.  •  In  a  flock.  3  Counsel.  *  Confidence. 


7982-8019.  THE  CLERKES  TALE.  219 

For  certes,  lord,  so  wel  us  liketh  you 
And  all  your  werke,  and  ever  have  don,  that  we 
Ne  couden  not  ourself  devisen  how 
"We  mighten  live  in  more  felicitee: 
Save  o  thing,  lord,  if  it  your  wille  be, 
That  for  to  be  a  wedded  man  you  lest,1 
Than  were  your  peple  in  soverain  hertes  rest. 

Boweth  your  nekke  under  the  blisful  yok 
Of  soveraintee,  and  not  of  servise, 
Which  that  men  clepen  spousaile  or  wedlok : 
And  thinketh,  lord,  among  your  thoughtes  wise, 
How  that  our  dayes  passe  in  sondry  wise ; 
For  though  we  slepe,  or  wake,  or  rome,  or  ride, 
Ay  fleth  the  time,  it  wol  no  man  abide. 

And  though  your  grene  youthe  floure  as  yet 
In  crepeth  age  alway  as  still  as  ston, 
And  deth  manaseth*  every  age,  and  smit 
In  eche  estat,  for  ther  escapeth  non : 
And  al  so  certain,  as  we  knowe  eche  on 
That  we  shul  die,  as  uncertain  we  all 
Ben  of  that  day  whan  deth  shal  on  us  fall. 

Accepteth  than  of  us  the  trewe  entent, 
That  never  yet  refuseden  your  hest, 
And  we  wol,  lord,  il  that  ye  wol  assent, 
Chese  you  a  wife  in  short  time  at  the  meat, 
Borne  of  the  gentillest  and  of  the  best 
Of  all  this  lond,  so  that  it  oughte  seme 
Honour  to  God  and  you,  as  we  can  deme. 

Deliver  us  out  of  all  this  besy  drede, 
And  take  a  wit,  for  highe  Goddes  sake : 
For  if  it  so  befell,  as  God  forbede, 
That  thurgh  your  deth  your  linage  shulde  slake,8 
And  that  a  strange  successour  shuld  take 
Your  heritage,  o !  wo  were  us  on  live : 
Wherfore  we  pray  you  hastily  to  wive. 

Hir  meke  praiere  and  hir  pitous  chere 
Made  the  markis  for  to  ban  pitee. 
Ye  wol,  quod  he,  min  owen  peple  dere, 

1  Were  willing.  •  Menaceth,  thrcatcneth.  s  Slacken,  fail. 


220  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8020-8058. 

To  that  I  never  er  thought  constrainen  me. 
I  me  rejoyced  of  my  libertee, 
That  selden1  time  is  found  in  mariage ; 
Ther  I  was  free,  I  moste  ben  in  servage. 

But  natheles  I  see  your  trewe  entent, 
And  trust  upon  your  wit,  and  have  don  ay: 
Wherfore  of  my  free  will  I  wol  assent 
To  wedden  me,  as  sone  as  ever  I  may. 
But  ther  as  ye  han  profred  me  to-day 
To  chesen  me  a  wif,  I  you  relese 
That  chois,  and  pray  you  of  that  profer  cese. 

For  God  it  wot,  that  children  often  ben 
Unlike  hir  worthy  eldres  hem  before, 
Bountee  cometh  al  of  God,  not  of  the  stren,* 
Oi  which  they  ben  ygendred  and  ybore : 
I  trust  in  Goddes  bountee,  and  thertore 
My  mariage,  and  min  estat,  and  rest 
I  him  betake,  he  may  don  as  him  lest. 

Let  me  alone  in  chesing  of  my  wif, 
That  charge  upon  my  bak  I  wol  endure: 
But  I  you  pray,  and  charge  upon  your  lif, 
That  what  wif  that  I  take,  ye  me  assure 
To  worship  hire  while  that  hire  lif  may  dure, 
In  word  and  werk  both  here  and  elles  where, 
As  she  an  emperoures  doughter  were. 

And  forthermore  this  shuln  ye  swere,  that  ye 
Again  my  chois  shul  never  grutch  ne  strive. 
For  sith  I  shal  forgo  my  libertee 
At  your  request,  as  ever  mote  I  thrive, 
Ther  as  min  herte  is  set,  ther  wol  I  wive: 
And  but  ye  wol  assent  in  swiche  manere, 
I  pray  you  speke  no  more  of  this  matere. 

With  hertly  will  they  svoren  and  assenten 
To  all  this  thing,  ther  saide  not  o  wight  nay: 
Beseching  him  of  grace,  or3  that  they  wenten, 
That  he  wold  granten  hem  a  certain  day 
Of  his  spousaile,  as  sone  as  ever  he  may, 
For  yet  alway  the  peple  somwhat  dred, 
Lest  that  this  markis  wolde  no  wil  wed. 

» Seldom.  2  stock.  » BefoM. 


8059-8093.  THE  CLERKES  TALE.  221 

He  granted  hem  a  day,  swiche  as  him  lest, 
On  which  he  wold  he  wedded  sikerly, 
And  said  he  did  all  this  at  hir  request; 
And  they  with  humhle  herte  f  ul  buxumly 
Kneling  upon  hir  knees  ful  reverently 
Him  thonken  all,  and  thus  they  han  an  end 
Of  hir  entente,  and  home  agen  they  wend. 

And  hereupon  he  to  his  officeres 
Commandeth  for  the  feste  to  purvay. 
And  to  his  privee  knightes  and  squieres 
Swiche  charge  he  yave,  as  him  list  on  hem  layj 
And  they  to  his  commandement  obey, 
And  eche  of  hem  doth  al  his  diligence 
To  do  unto  the  feste  al  reverence. 


PARS  SECUNDA. 

Nought  fer  fro1  thilke  paleis  honourable, 
"Wher  as  this  markis  shope  his  manage, 
Ther  stood  a  thorpe,2  oi  sighte  delitable, 
In  which  that  poure  folk  of  that  village 
Hadden  hir  bestes  and  hir  herbergage, 
And  of  hir  labour  toke  hir  sustenance, 
After  that  the  erthe  yave  hem  habundance. 

Among  this  poure  folk  ther  dwelt  a  man, 
Which  that  was  holden  pourest  of  hem  all: 
But  highe  God  somtime  senden  can 
His  grace  unto  a  litel  oxes  stall: 
Janicola  men  of  that  thorpe  him  call. 
A  doughter  had  he,  faire  ynough  to  sightj 
And  Grisildis  this  yonge  maiden  hight. 

But  for  to  speke  of  vertuous  beautee, 
Than  was  she  on  the  fairest  under  sonne: 
Ful  pourely  yfostred  up  was  she: 
No  likerous  lust  was  in  hire  herte  yronne; 
Wei  ofter  of  the  well  than  of  the  tonne 
She  dranke,  and  tor  she  wolde  vertue  plese, 
She  knew  wel  labour,  but  non  idel  ese. 

i  Not  far  from.  *  Tillage. 

19* 


222  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8094-8181. 

But  though  this  mayden  tendre  were  of  age, 
Yet  in  the  brest  of  hire  virginitee 
Ther  was  enclosed  sad  and  ripe  corage: 
And  in  gret  reverence  and  charitee 
Hire  olde  poure  fader  fostred  she: 
A  few  sheep  spinning  on  the  feld  she  kept, 
She  wolde  not  ben  idel  til  she  slept. 

And  whan  she  homward  came,  she  wolde  bring 
Wortes  and  other  herbes  times  oft, 
The  which  she  shred  and  sethe1  for  hire  living, 
And  made  hire  bed  ful  hard,  and  nothing  soft: 
And  ay  she  kept  hire  fadres  lif  on  loft2 
With  every  obeisance  and  diligence, 
That  child  may  don  to  fadres  reverence. 

Upon  Grisilde,  this  poure  creature, 
Ful  often  sithe  this  markis  sette  his  eye, 
As  he  on  hunting  rode  paraventure : 
And  whan  it  fell  that  he  might  hire  espie, 
He  not  with  wanton  loking  of  folie 
His  eyen  cast  on  hire,  but  in  sad  wise 
Upon  hire  chere  he  wold  him  oft  avise, 

Commending  in  his  herte  hire  womanhede, 
And  eke  hire  vertue,  passing  any  wight 
Of  so  yong  age,  as  wel  in  chere  as  dede. 
For  though  the  peple  have  no  gret  insight 
In  vertue,  he  considered  ful  right 
Hire  bountee,3  and  disposed  that  he  wold 
Wedde  hire  only,  if  ever  he  wedden  shold. 

The  day  of  wedding  came,  but  no  wight  can 
Tellen  what  woman,  that  it  shulde  be, 
For  which  mervaille  wondred  many  a  man, 
And  saiden,  whan  they  were  in  privetee, 
Wol  not  our  lord  yet  leve  his  vanitee? 
Wol  he  not  wedde  ?  alas,  alas  the  while ! 
Why  wol  he  thus  himself  and  us  begile? 

But  natheles  this  markis  hath  do  make* 
Of  gemmes,  sette  in  gold  and  in  asure, 
Broches  and  ringes,  for  Grisildes  sake, 

1  Boiled.  2  Kept  it  op,  supported  It 

*  Goodness.  *  Caused  to  be  made. 


8132-8170.  THE  CLERKES  TALB.  223 

And  of  hire  clothing  toke  he  the  mesure 
Of  a  maiden  like  unto  hire  stature, 
And  eke  of  other  ornamentes  all, 
That  unto  swiche  a  wedding  shulde  fall. 

The  time  of  underne1  of  the  same  day 
Approcheth,  that  this  wedding  shulde  be, 
And  all  the  paleis  put  was  in  array, 
Both  halle  and  chambres,  eche  in  his  degree, 
Houses  of  office  stuffed  with  plentee 
Ther  mayst  thou  see  of  deinteous  vitaille, 
That  may  be  found,  as  fer  as  lasteth  Itaille. 

This  real*  markis  richely  arraide, 
Lordes  and  ladies  in  his  compagnie, 
The  which  unto  the  feste  weren  praide,' 
And  of  his  retenue  the  bachelerie, 
With  many  a  soun  of  sondry  melodie, 
Unto  the  village,  of  the  which  I  told, 
In  this  array  the  righte  way  they  hold. 

Grisilde  of  this  (God  wot)  ful  innocent, 
That  for  hire  shapen  was  all  this  array, 
To  fetchen  water  at  a  welle  is  went, 
And  cometh  home  as  sone  as  ever  she  may. 
For  wel  she  had  herd  say,  that  thilke  day 
The  markis  shulde  wedde,  and,  if  she  might, 
She  wolde  fayn  han  seen  som  of  that  sight. 

She  thought,  I  wol  with  other  maidens  stond, 
That  ben  my  felawes,  in  our  dore,  and  see 
The  markisesse,  and  therto  wol  I  fond* 
To  don  at  home,  as  sone  as  it  may  be, 
The  labour  which  that  longeth  unto  me, 
And  than  I  may  at  leiser  hire  behold, 
If  she  this  way  unto  the  castel  hold. 

And  as  she  wolde  over  the  threswold  gon, 
The  markis  came  and  gan  hire  for  to  call, 
And  she  set  doun  hire  water-pot  anon 
Beside  the  threswold  in  an  oxes  stall, 
And  doun  upon  hire  knees  she  gan  to  fall, 
And  with  sad  countenance  kneleth  still, 
Til  she  had  herd  what  was  the  lordes  will. 

'  The  third  hour,  i.e.,  nine  o'clock.  -  Boyal. 

» Invited.  «  Contrjve. 


224  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8171-8208. 

This  thoughtful  mart  is  spake  unto  this  maid 
Ful  soberly,  and  said  in  this  manere: 
Wher  is  your  fader,  Grisildis?  he  said, 
And  she  with  reverence  in  humble  chere 
Answered,  lord,  he  is  al  redy  here. 
And  in  she  goth  withouten  lenger  lette,1 
And  to  the  markis  she  hire  iuder  fette.3 

He  by  the  hond  than  toke  this  poure  man, 
And  saide  thus,  whan  he  him  had  aside: 
Janicola,  I  neither  may  ne  can 
Lenger  the  plesance  of  min  herte  hide, 
If  that  thou  vouchesauf,  what  so  betide, 
Thy  doughter  wol  I  take  or  that  I  wend 
As  for  my  wif,  unto  hire  lives  end. 

Thou  lovest  me,  that  wot  I  wel  certain, 
And  art  my  faithful  liegeman  ybore, 
And  all  that  liketh  me,  I  dare  wel  sain 
It  liketh  thee,  and  specially  therfore 
Tell  me  that  point,  that  I  have  said  before, 
If  that  thou  wolt  unto  this  purpos  drawe, 
To  taken  me  as  for  thy  son  in  lawe. 

This  soden  cas  this  man  astoned  so, 
That  red  he  wex,  abaist,3  and  al  quaking 
He  stood,  unnethes  said  he  wordes  mo, 
But  only  thus ;  Lord,  quod  he,  my  willing 
Is  as  ye  wol,  ne  ageins  your  liking 
I  wol  no  thing,  min  owen  lord  so  dere, 
Bight  as  you  list,  governeth4  this  raatere. 

Than  wol  I,  quod  this  markis  softely, 
That  in  thy  chambre,  I,  and  thou,  and  she, 
Have  a  collation,  and  wost  thou  why? 
For  I  wol  ask  hire,  if  it  hire  wille  be 
To  be  my  wif,  and  reule5  hire  after  me : 
And  all  this  shal  be  don  in  thy  presence, 
I  wol  not  speke  out  of  thin  audience. 

And  in  the  chambre,  while  they  were  aboute 
The  tretee,  which  as  ye  shul  after  here, 
The  peple  came  into  the  hous  withoute, 

»  Longer  delay.  s  Fetched.  3  Abashed. 

4  Govern,  settle.  *  Bale 


8247.  THE   CLEHKES   TALE.  225 

And  wondred  hem,  in  how  honest  manere 
Ententifly  she  kept  hire  fader  dere: 
But  utterly  Grisildis  wonder  might, 
For  never  erst  ne  saw  she  swiche  a  sight. 

No  wonder  is  though  that  she  be  astoned, 
To  see  so  gret  a  gest  come  in  that  place, 
She  never  was  to  non  swiche  gestes  woned,1 
For  which  she  loked  with  ful  pale  face. 
But  shortly  forth  this  matere  for  to  chace, 
Thise  am  the  wordes  that  the  markis  said 
To  this  benigne,  veray,2  faithful  maid, 

Grisilde,  he  said,  ye  shuln  wel  understand, 
It  liketh  to  your  fader  and  to  me, 
That  I  you  wedde,  and  eke  it  may  so  stond 
As  I  suppose,  ye  wol  that  it  so  be : 
But  thise  demaundes  aske  I  first  (quod  he) 
That  sin  it  shal  be  don  in  hasty  wise, 
Wol  ye  assent,  or  elles  you  aviset 

I  say  this,  be  ye  redy  with  good  herte 
To  all  my  lust,  and  that  I  freely  may 
As  me  best  thinketh  do  you  laugh  or  smerte, 
And  never  ye  to  grutchen,  night  ne  day, 
And  eke  whan  I  say  ya,  ye  say  not  nay, 
Neither  by  word,  ne  frouning  countenance  ? 
Swere  this,  and  here  I  swere  our  alliance. 

Wondring  upon  this  thing,  quaking  for  drede, 
She  saide ;  Lord,  indigne  and  unworthy 
Am  I,  to  thilke  honour,  that  ye  me  bede,3 
But  as  ye  wol  yourself,  right  so  wol  I : 
And  here  I  swere,  that  never  willingly 
In  werk,  ne  thought,  I  n'ill  you  disobeie 
For  to  be  ded,  though  me  were  loth  to  deie. 

This  is  ynough,  Grisilde  min,  quod  he. 
And  forth  he  goth  with  a  ful  sobre  chere, 
Out  at  the  dore,  and  after  than  came  she, 
And  to  the  peple  he  said  in  this  manere: 
This  is  my  wif,  quod  he,  that  stondeth  here. 
Honoureth  her,  and  loveth  hire,  I  pray, 
Who  so  me  loveth,  ther  n'is  no  more  to  say. 

Accustomed.  3  True.  s  Offer. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8248-8282. 

And  for  that  nothing  of  hire  olde  gere 
She  shulde  hring  into  his  hous,  he  bad 
That  women  shuld  despoilen  hire  right  there, 
Of  which  thise  ladies  weren  nothing  glad 
To  handle  hire  clothes  wherin  she  was  clad : 
But  natheles  this  maiden  bright  of  hew 
Fro  foot  to  hed  they  clothed  nan  all  new. 

Hire  heres  han  they  kempt,  that  lay  untressed 
Ful  rudely,  and  with  hir  fingres  smal 
A  coroune  on  hire  hed  they  nan  ydressed, 
And  sette  hire  ful  of  nouches1  gret  and  smal : 
Of  hire  array  what  shuld  I  make  a  tale  ? 
Unneth  the  peple  hire  knew  for  hire  fairnesse, 
Whan  she  transmewed2  was  in  swiche  richesse. 

This  markis  hath  hire  spoused  with  a  ring 
Brought  for  the  same  cause,  and  than  hire  sette 
Upon  an  hors  snow-white,  and  wel  ambling, 
And  to  his  paleis,  or  he  lenger  lette,3 
(With  joyful  peple,  that  hire  lad  and  mette) 
Conveyed  hire,  and  thus  the  day  they  spende 
In  revel,  til  the  sonne  gan  descende. 

And  shortly  forth  this  tale  for  to  chace, 
I  say,  that  to  this  newe  markisesse 
God  hath  swiche  favour  sent  hire  of  his  grace, 
That  it  ne  semeth  not  by  likelinesse4 
That  she  was  borne  and  fed  in  rudenesse, 
As  in  a  cote,  or  in  an  oxes  stall, 
But  nourished  in  an  emperoures  hall. 

To  every  wight  she  waxen  is  so  dere, 
And  worshipful,  that  folk  ther5  she  was  bore, 
And  fro  hire  birthe  knew  hire  yere  by  yere, 
Unnethes6  trowed  they,  but  dorst  han  swore, 
That  to  Janicle,  of  which  I  spake  before, 
She  doughter  n'as,7  for  as  by  conjecture  * 

Hem  thoughte  she  was  another  creature. 

'  Ouches.  2  Changed. 

3  Without  having  delayed  longer. 

1  Not  probable,  or,  not  by  chance. 

•  Who  lived  where.  6  Scarcely.  1  Was  not. 


6283-8320.  THE  CLERKES  TALE.  227 

For  though  that  ever  vertuous  was  she, 
She  was  encresed  in  swiche  excellence 
Of  thewes1  good,  yset  in  high  bountee, 
And  so  discrete,  and  faire  of  eloquence, 
So  benigne,  and  so  digne  of  reverence, 
And  coude  so  the  peples  herte  enbrace, 
That  eche  hire  loveth  that  loketh  on  hire  face. 

Not  only  of  Saluces  in  the  toun 
Published  was  the  bountee  of  hire  name, 
But  eke  beside  in  many  a  regioun, 
If  on  saith  wel,  another  saith  the  same : 
So  spredeth  of  hire  hie  bountee  the  fame, 
That  men  and  women,  yong  as  wel  as  old, 
Gon  to  Saluces  upon  lure  to  behold. 

Thus  Walter  lowly,  nay  but  really,3 
Wedded  with  fortunat  honestetee, 
In  Goddes  pees  liveth  ful  esily 
At  home,  and  grace  ynough  outward  had  he: 
And  for  he  saw  that  under  low  degree 
Was  honest  vertue  hid,  the  peple  him  held 
A  prudent  man,  and  that  is  seen  ful  seld. 

Not  only  this  Grisildis  thurgh  hire  wit 
Coude  all  the  fete  of  wifly  homlinesse, 
But  eke  whan  that  the  cas  required  it, 
The  comune  profit  coude  she  redresse : 
Ther  n'as  discord,  rancour,  ne  hevinesse 
In  all  the  lond,  that  she  ne  coude  appese, 
And  wisely  bring  hem  all  in  hertes  ese. 

Though  that  hire  husbond  absent  were  or  no 
If  gentUmen,  or  other  of  that  contree 
Were  wroth,  she  wolde  bringen  hem  at  on, 
So  wise  and  ripe  wordes  hadde  she, 
And  jugement  of  so  gret  equitee, 
That  she  from  heven  sent  was,  as  men  wend, 
Peple  to  save,  and  every  wrong  to  amend. 

Not  longe  time  after  that  this  Grisilde 
Was  wedded,  she  a  doughter  hath  ybore, 
All  had  hire  lever  han  borne  a  knave  child: 

1  Manners.  '  Royally. 


228  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8321-8356. 

Glad  was  the  markis  and  his  folk  therfore, 
For  though  a  maiden  childe  come  all  before, 
She  may  unto  a  knave  child  atteine 
By  likelyhed,  sin  she  n'is  not  barreine. 


PARS  TERTIA, 

Ther  fell,  as  it  befalleth  times  mo, 
Whan  that  this  childe  had  souked  but  a  throwe,1 
This  markis  in  his  herte  longed  so 
To  tempt  his  wif,  hire  sadnesse  for  to  knowe, 
That  he  ne  might  out  of  his  herte  throwe 
This  marveillous  desir  his  wif  to  assay, 
Needles,  God  wot,  he  thought  hire  to  affray. 

He  had  assaied  hire  ynough  before, 
And  found  hire  ever  good,  what  nedeth  it 
Hire  for  to  tempt,  and  alway  more  and  more? 
Though  som  men  praise  it  for  a  subtil  wit, 
But  as  for  me,  I  say  that  evil  it  sit 
To  assay  a  wif  whan  that  it  is  no  nede, 
And  putten  hire  in  anguish  and  in  drede. 

For  which  this  markis  wrought  in  this  manere; 
He  came  a-night  alone  ther  as  she  lay 
With  sterne  face,  and  with  ful  trouble  chere, 
And  sayde  thus:  Grisilde,  (quod  he)  that  day 
That  I  you  toke  out  of  your  poure  array, 
And  put  you  in  estat  of  high  noblesse, 
Ye  han  it  not  forgotten,  as  I  gesse. 

I  say,  Grisilde,  this  present  dignitee, 
In  which  that  I  have  put  you,  as  I  trow, 
Maketh  you  not  forgetful  for  to  be 
That  I  you  toke  in  poure  estat  ful  low, 
For  ony  wele  ye  mote  yourselven  know. 
Take  hede  of  every  word  that  I  you  say, 
Ther  is  no  wight  that  hereth  it  but  we  tway. 

Ye  wote  yourself  wel  how  that  ye  came  here 
Into  this  hous,  it  is  not  long  ago, 
And  though  to  me  ye  be  right  lefe  and  dere, 

1  A  little  while. 


8366-8394.  THE  CLERKES  TALE.  229 

Unto  my  gentils  ye  be  nothing  so : 
They  say,  to  hem  it  is  gret  shame  and  wo 
For  to  be  suggetes,  and  ben  in  servage 
To  thee,  that  borne  art  of  a  snial  linage. 

And  namely  sin  thy  doughter  was  ybore, 
Thise  wordes  han  they  spoken  douteles, 
But  I  desire,  as  I  have  don  before, 
To  live  my  lif  with  hem  in  rest  and  pees : 
I  may  not  in  this  cas  be  reccheles ; 
I  mote  do  with  thy  doughter  for  the  best, 
Not  as  I  wold,  but  as  my  gentils  lest. 

And  yet,  God  wote,  this  is  ful  loth  to  mo: 
But  natheles  withouten  youre  weting1 
I  wol  nought  do,  but  thus  wol  I  (quod  he) 
That  ye  to  me  assenten  in  this  thing. 
Shew  now  youre  patience  in  youre  werking, 
That  ye  me  hight  and  swore  in  youre  village 
The  day  that  maked  was  our  mariage. 

Whan  she  had  herd  all  this,  she  not  ameved3 
Neyther  in  word,  in  chere,  ne  countenance, 
(For  as  it  semed,  she  was  not  agreved) 
She  sayde :  Lord,  all  lith  in  your  plesance, 
My  child  and  I,  with  hertely  obeisance 
Ben  youres  all,  and  ye  may  save  or  spill, 
Your  owen  thing:  werketh  after  your  wilL 

Ther  may  no  thing,  so  God  my  soule  save, 
Like  unto  you,  that  may  displesen  me: 
Ne  I  desire  nothing  for  to  have, 
Ne  drede  for  to  lese,  sauf  only  ye : 
This  will  is  in  myn  herte,  and  ay  shal  be, 
No  length  of  time,  or  deth  may  this  deface, 
Ne  change  my  corage  to  an  other  place. 

Glad  was- this  markis  for  hire  answering, 
But  yet  he  feined  as  he  were  not  so, 
Al  drery  was  his  chere  and  his  loking, 
Whan  that  he  shuld  out  of  the  chambre  go, 
Sone  after  this,  a  furlong  way  or  two, 
He  prively  hath  told  all  his  entent 
Unto  a  man,  and  to  his  wif  him  sent. 

•  Knowledge.  *  Moved. 

20 


230  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8395-8432. 

A  maner  sergeant  was  this  prive  man, 
The  which  he  faithful  often  founden  had 
In  thinges  gret,  and  eke  swiche  folk  wel  can 
Don  execution  on  thinges  bad : 
The  lord  knew  wel,  that  he  him  loved  and  drad. 
And  whan  this  sergeant  wist  his  lordes  will, 
Into  the  chambre  he  stalked  him  ful  still. 

Madame,  he  sayd,  ye  mote  foryeve  it  me, 
Though  I  do  thing,  to  which  I  am  constreined : 
Ye  ben  so  wise,  that  right  wel  knowen  ye, 
That  lordes  hestes  may  not  ben  yfeined,1 
They  may  wel  be  bewailed  and  complained, 
But  men  mote  nedes  to  hir  lust  obey, 
And  so  wol  I,  ther  n'is  no  more  to  say. 

This  child  I  am  commanded  for  to  take. 
And  spake  no  more,  but  out  the  child  he  hent 
Despitously,  and  gan  a  chere  to  make,2 
As  though  he  wold  have  slain  it,  or  he  went. 
Grisildis  most  al  suffer  and  al  consent: 
And  as  a  lambe,  she  sitteth  meke  and  still, 
And  let  this  cruel  sergeant  do  his  will. 

Suspecious  was  the  diffame  of  this  man, 
Suspect  his  face,  suspect  his  word  also, 
Suspect  the  time  in  which  he  this  began: 
Alas !  hire  doughter,  that  she  loved  so, 
She  wende  he  wold  han  slaien  it  right  tho, 
But  natheles  she  neither  wept  ne  siked, 
Conforming  hire  to  that  the  markis  liked. 

But  at  the  last  to  speken  she  began, 
And  mekely  she  to  the  sergeant  praid 
(So  as  he  was  a  worthy  gentil  man) 
That  she  might  kisse  hire  child,  or  that  it  deid: 
And  in  hire  barme3  this  litel  child  she  leid, 
With  ful  sad  face,  and  gan  the  child  to  blisse, 
And  lulled  it,  and  after  gan  it  kisse. 

And  thus  she  sayd  in  hire  benigne  vois: 
Farewel,  my  child,  I  shal  thee  never  see, 
But  sin  I  have  thee  marked  with  the  crois, 

1  Shirked,  done  with  a  feigned  zeal  only. 

*  To  affect  a  manner.  3  Lap. 


8433-8471.  THE  CLEREES  TALE.  231 

Of  thilke  fader  yblessed  mote  thou  be, 
That  for  us  died  upon  a  croia  of  tree : 
Thy  soule,  litel  child,  I  him  betake,1 
For  this  night  shalt  thou  dien  for  my  sake. 

I  trow  that  to  a  norice*  in  this  cas3 
It  had  ben  hard  this  routhe  for  to  see : 
"Wei  might  a  moder  than  han  cried  alas, 
But  natheles  so  sad  stedfast  was  she, 
That  she  endured  all  adversitee, 
And  to  the  sergeant  mekely  she  sayde, 
Have  here  agen  your  litel  yonge  mayde. 

Goth  now  (quod  she)  and  doth  my  lordes  hest: 
And  o  thing  wold  I  pray  you  of  your  grace, 
But  if  my  lord  forbade  you  at  the  lest, 
Burieth  this  litel  body  in  som  place, 
That  bestes  ne  no  briddes  it  to-race. 
But  he  no  word  to  that  purpos  wold  say, 
But  toke  the  child  and  went  upon  his  way. 

This  sergeant  came  unto  his  lord  again, 
And  of  Grisildes  wordes  and  hire  chere 
He  told  him  point  lor  point,  in  short  and  plain, 
And  him  presented  with  his  doughter  dere. 
Somwhat  this  lord  hath  routhe  in  his  manere, 
But  natheles  his  purpos  held  he  still, 
As  lordes  don,  whan  they  wol  han  hir  will. 

And  bad  this  sergeant  that  he  prively 
Shulde  this  child  ful  softe  wind  and  wrappe, 
With  alle  circumstances  tendrely, 
And  carry  it  in  a  cofre,'1  or  in  a  lappe;5 
But  upon  peine  his  hed  of  for  to  swappe8 
That  no  man  shulde  know  of  his  entent, 
Ne  whens  he  came,  ne  whider  that  he  went; 

But  at  Boloigne,  unto  his  suster  dere, 
That  thilke  time  of  Pavie  was  countesse, 
He  shuld  it  take,  and  shew  hire  this  matere, 
Beseching  hire  to  don  hire  besinesse 
This  child  to  fostren  in  all  gentillesse, 
And  whos  child  that  it  was  he  bade  hire  hide 
From  every  wight,  for  ought  that  may  betide. 

i  Commend  to  him.  *  Nurse.  3  Matter. 

*  tihafc  *  The  skirt  of  a  garment.  6  Strike  off. 


232  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8472-8506. 

This  sergeant  goth,  and  hath  fulfilde  this  thing. 
But  to  this  marquis  now  retorne  we; 
For  now  goth  he  ful  fast  imagining, 
If  by  his  wives  chere  he  mighte  see, 
Or  by  hire  wordes  apperceive,  that  she 
"Were  changed,  but  he  never  coud  hire  finde, 
But  ever  in  on  ylike  sad  and  kinde. 

As  glad,  as  humble,  as  besy  in  service 
And  eke  in  love,  as  she  was  wont  to  be, 
Was  she  to  him,  in  every  maner  wise ; 
Ne  of  hire  doughter  not  a  word  spake  she: 
Non  accident  for  non  adversitee 
Was  seen  in  hire,  ne  never  hire  doughters  name 
Ne  nevened'  she,  for  ernest  ne  for  game. 


PARS  QPARTA. 

In  this  estat  ther  passed  ben  foure  yere 
Er  she  with  childe  was,  but,  as  God  wold, 
A  knave  childe  she  bare  by  this  Waltere 
Ful  gracious,  and  fair  for  to  behold : 
And  whan  that  folk  it  to  his  fader  told, 
Not  only  he,  but  all  his  contree  mery 
Was  for  this  childe,  and  God  they  thonke  and  hery.* 

Whan  it  was  two  yere  old,  and  from  the  brest 
Departed  of  his  norice3,  on  a  day 
This  markis  caughte  yet  another  lest4 
To  tempte  his  wif  yet  ofter,  if  he  may. 
O !  nedeles  was  she  tempted  in  assay. 
But  wedded  men  ne  connen  no  mesure, 
Whan  that  they  finde  a  patient  creature. 

Wif,  quod  this  markis,  ye  han  herd  or  this 
My  peple  sikely  beren  our  mariage, 
And  namely  sin  my  sone  yboren  is, 
Now  is  it  werse  than  ever  in  al  our  age : 
The  murmur  sleth  myn  herte  and  my  corage, 
For  to  myn  eres  cometh  the  vois  so  smerte, 
That  it  wel  nie  destroyed  hath  myn  herte. 
Named.  I  Praise.  3  Nurse.  4Desir«. 


8507-8544.  THE  CLERKES  TALE.  233 

Now  say  they  thus,  whan  Walter  is  agon, 
Than  shal  the  blood  of  Janicle  succede, 
And  ben  our  lord,  for  other  ban  we  non : 
Swiche  wordes  sayn  my  peple,  it  is  no  drede,1 
Wei  ought  I  of  swiche  murmur  taken  hede, 
For  certainly  I  drede  al  swiche  sentence, 
Though  they  not  plainen2  in  myn  audience. 

I  wolde  live  in  pees,  if  that  I  might: 
Wherfore  I  am  disposed  utterly, 
As  I  his  suster  served  er  by  night, 
Eight  so  thinke  I  to  serve  him  prively. 
This  warne  I  you,  that  ye  not  sodenly 
Out  of  yourselt  for  no  wo  shuld  outraie,8 
Beth  patient,  and  therof  I  you  praie. 

I  have,  quod  she,  sayd  thus  and  ever  shal, 
I  wol  no  thing,  ne  n'ill  no  thing  certain, 
But  as  you  list :  not  greveth  me  at  al, 
Though  that  my  doughter  and  my  sone  be  slain 
At  your  commandement:  that  is  to  sain, 
I  have  not  had  no  part  of  children  twein, 
But  first  sikenesse,  and  after  wo  and  peine. 

Ye  ben  my  lord,  doth  with  your  owen  thing 
Bight  as  you  list,  asketh  no  rede  of  me: 
For  as  I  left  at  home  al  my  clothing 
Whan  I  came  first  to  you,  right  so  (quod  she) 
Left  I  my  will  and  al  my  libertee, 
And  toke  your  clothing:  wherfore  I  you  prey, 
Doth  your  plesance,  I  wol  youre  lust  obey. 

And  certes,  if  I  hadde  prescience 
Your  will  to  know,  er  ye  your  lust  me  told, 
I  wold  it  do  withouten  negligence : 
But  now  I  wote  your  lust,  and  what  ye  wold, 
All  your  plesance  ferme  and  stable  I  hold, 
For  wist  I  that  my  deth  might  do  you  ese, 
Bight  gladly  wold  I  dien,  you  to  plese. 

Deth  may  not  maken  no  comparisoun 
Unto  your  love.    And  whan  this  markis  say 
The  Constance  of  his  wif,  he  cast  adoun 
1  Doubt.  2  Complain.  »  Fly  out,  display  passion. 

20* 


2Z£  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8545-8583. 

His  eyen  two,  and  wondreth  how  she  may 
In  patience  suffer  al  this  array: 
And  forth  he  goth  with  drery  contenance, 
But  to  his  herte  it  was  ful  gret  plesance. 

This  ugly  sergeant  in  the  same  wise 
That  he  hire  doughter  caughte,  right  so  ho 
(Or  werse,  if  men  can  any  werse  devise) 
Hath  hent1  hire  sone,  that  ful  was  of  beautee: 
And  ever  in  on  so  patient  was  she, 
That  she  no  chere2  made  of  hevinesse, 
But  kist  hire  sone  and  after  gan  it  blesse. 

Save  this  she  praied  him,  if  that  he  mighty 
Hire  litel  sone  he  wold  in  erthe  grave, 
His  tendre  limmes,  delicat  to  sight, 
Fro  foules  and  fro  bestes  for  to  save. 
But  she  non  answer  ot  him  mighte  have, 
He  went  his  way,  as  him  no  thing  ne  rou^ht, 
But  to  Boloigne  he  tendrely  it  brought. 

This  markis  wondreth  ever  lenger  the  more 
Upon  hire  patience,  and  if  that  he 
Ne  hadde  sothly  knowen  therbefore, 
That  parfitly  hire  children  loved  she, 
He  wold  han  wend  that  of  som  subtiltee 
And  of  malice,  or  for  cruel  corage, 
That  she  had  suffred  this  with  sad  visage. 

But  wel  he  knew,  that  next  himself,  certain 
She  loved  hire  children  best  in  every  wise. 
But  now  of  women  wold  I  asken  fayn, 
If  thise  assaies  mighten  not  suffise ; 
What  coud  a  sturdy  husbond  more  devise 
To  preve  hire  wifhood,  and  hire  stedfastnesse, 
And  he  continuing  ever  in  sturdinesse? 

But  ther  ben  folk  of  swiche  condition, 
That,  whan  they  han  a  certain  purpos  take, 
They  can  not  stint  of  hir  intention, 
But,  right  as  they  were  bounden  to  a  stake, 
They  wol  not  of  hir  firste  purpos  slake: 
Bight  so  this  markis  fully  hath  purposed 
To  tempt  his  wif,  as  he  was  first  disposed. 

1  Taken.  *  Show. 


8581-8021.  THE  CLEBKES  TALE,  235 

He  waiteth,  if  by  word  or  contenance 
That  she  to  him  was  changed  of  corage: 
But  never  coud  he  hnden  variance, 
She  was  ay  on  in  herte  and  in  visage, 
And  ay  the  further  that  she  was  in  age, 
The  more  trewe  (if  that  it  were  possible) 
She  was  to  him  in  love,  and  more  penible.1 

For  which  it  semed  thus,  that  of  hem  two 
Ther  was  but  o  will ;  for  as  Walter  lest, 
The  same  lust  was  hire  plesance  also ; 
And  God  be  thanked,  all  fell  for  the  best. 
She  shewed  wel,  for  no  worldly  unrest 
A  wif,  as  of  hireself,  no  thing  ne  sholde 
Wille  in  effect,  but  as  hire  husbond  wolde. 

The  sclandre5  of  Walter  wonder  wide  spradde, 
That  of  a  cruel  herte  he  wikkedly, 
For  he  a  poure  woman  wedded  hadde, 
Hath  murdred  both  his  children  prively: 
Swich  murmur  was  among  hem  comunly. 
No  wonder  is :  for  to  the  peples  ere 
Ther  came  no  word,  but  that  they  murdred  were. 

For  which  ther  as  his  peple  therbefore 
Had  loved  him  wel,  the  sclandre  of  his  diffame 
Made  hem  that  they  him  hateden  therfore: 
To  ben  a  murdrour  is  an  hateful  name. 
But  natheles,  for  ernest  ne  for  game, 
.  He  of  his  cruel  purpos  n'olde  stente, 
To  tempt  his  wif  was  sette  all  his  entente. 

Whan  that  his  doughter  twelf  yere  was  of  age, 
He  to  the  court  of  Rome,  in  subtil  wise 
Enformed  of  his  will,  sent  his  message, 
Commanding 'him,  swiche  billes  to  devise, 
As  to  his  cruel  purpos  may  suffise, 
How  that  the  pope,  as  for  his  peples  resl^ 
Bade  him  to  wed  another,  if  him  lest. 

I  say  he  bade,  they  shulden  contrefeto 
The  popes  bulles,  making  mention 
That  he  hath  leve  his  firste  wif  to  lete, 

>  Painstaking.  >  Slander. 


236  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8622-8660. 

As  by  the  popes  dispensation, 

To  stinten  rancour  and  dissension 

Betwix  his  peple  and  him :  thus  spake  the  bull, 

The  which  they  han  publisshed  at  the  tulL 

The  rude  peple,  as  no  wonder  is, 
Wenden  ful  wel,  that  it  had  ben  right  so: 
But  whan  thise  tidings  came  to  Grisildis, 
I  deme  that  hire  herte  was  ful  of  wo; 
But  she  ylike  sad  for  evermo 
Disposed  was,  this  humble  creature, 
The  adversitee  ol  fortune  al  to  endure; 

Abiding  ever  his  lust  and  his  plesance, 
To  whom  that  she  was  yeven,  herte  and  al, 
As  to  hire  veray  worldly  suffisance. 
But  shortly  if  this  storie  tell  I  shal, 
This  markis  writen  hath  in  special 
A  lettre,  in  which  he  sheweth  his  entente, 
And  secretly  he  to  Boloigne  it  sente, 

To  the  erl  of  Pavie,  which  that  hadde  tho 
Wedded  his  suster,  prayed  he  specially 
To  bringen  home  agein  his  children  two 
In  honourable  estat  al  openly: 
But  o  thing  he  him  prayed  utterly, 
That  he  to  no  wight,  though  men  wold  enquere, 
Shulde  not  tell  whos  children  that  they  were, 

But  say,  the  maiden  shuld  ywedded  be 
Unto  the  markis  of  Saluces  anon. 
And  as  this  erl  was  prayed,  so  did  he, 
For  at  day  sette  he  on  his  way  is  gon 
Toward  Saluces,  and  lordes  many  on 
In  rich  arraie,  this  maiden  for  to  gide, 
Hire  yonge  brother  riding  hire  beside. 

Arraied  was  toward  hire  mariage 
This  fresshe  maiden,  ful  of  gemmes  clere, 
Hire  brother,  which  that  seven  yere  was  of  age, 
Arraied  eke  ful  fresh  in  his  manere : 
And  thus  in  gret  noblesse  and  with  glad  chere 
Toward  Saluces  shaping  hir  journay 
Fro  day  to  day  they  riden  in  hir  way. 


8661-8695.  THE  CLEKKES  TALE.  237 


PARS   QtTINTA. 

Among  al  this,  after  his  wicked  usage, 
This  mark  is  yet  his  wif  to  tempten  more 
To  the  uttereste  prefe  of  hire  corage, 
Fully  to  have  experience  and  lore, 
If  that  she  were  as  stedeiast  as  before, 
He  .  ,ii  a  day  in  open  audience 
Ful  boistously  hath  said  hire  this  sentence: 

Certes,  Grisilde,  I  had  ynough  plesance        * 
To  han  you  to  my  wif,  for  your  goodnesse, 
And  for  your  trouthe,  and  for  your  obeysance, 
Not  for  your  linage,  ne  for  your  richesse, 
But  now  know  I  in  veray  sothfastnesse,1 
That  in  gret  lordship,  if  I  me  wel  avise, 
Ther  is  gret  servitude  in  sondry  wise. 

I  may  not  don,  as  every  ploughman  may: 
My  peple  me  constreineth  for  to  take 
Another  wif,  and  crien  day  by  day ; 
And  eke  the  pope  rancour  for  to  slake2 
Consenteth  it,  that  dare  I  undertake: 
And  trewely,  thus  moche  I  wol  you  say, 
My  newe  wif  is  coming  by  the  way. 

Be  strong  of  herte,  and  voide3  anon  hire  place, 
And  thilke  dower  that  ye  broughten  me 
Take  it  agen,  I  grant  it  of  my  grace. 
Beturneth  to  your  fadres  hous,  (quod  he) 
No  man  may  alway  have  prospentee. 
With  even  herte  I  rede4  you  to  endure 
The  stroke  of  fortune,  or  of  aventure. 

And  she  agen  answerd  in  patience: 
My  lord,  quod  she,  I  wote,  and  wist  alway, 
How  that  betwixen  your  magnificence 
And  my  poverte  no  wight  ne  can  ne  may 
Maken  comparison,  it  is  no  nay; 
I  ne  held  me  never  digne  in  no  manere 
To  be  your  wif,  ne  yet  your  chamberere.8 

1  Truth.  a  Allay. 

*  Give  up.  *  Advise.  *  Chamber  maid. 


238  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8696-8733. 

And  in  this  hous,  ther  ye  me  lady  made, 
(The  highe  God  take  I  for  my  witnesse, 
And  all  so  wisly1  he  my  soule  glad) 
I  never  held  me  lady  ne  maistresse, 
But  humble  servant  to  your  worthinesse, 
And  ever  shal,  while  that  my  lif  may  dure, 
Aboven  every  worldly  creature. 

That  ye  so  longe  of  your  benignitee 
Han  holden  me  in  honour  and  nobley, 
Wheras  I  was  not  worthy  for  to  be, 
That  thanke  I  God  and  you,  to  whom  I  prey 
Foryelde2  it  you,  ther  is  no  more  to  sey: 
Unto  my  fader  gladly  wol  I  wende, 
And  with  him  dwell  unto  my  lives  ende; 

Ther  I  was  fostred  of  a  childe  ful  smal, 
Til  I  be  ded  my  lif  ther  wol  I  lede, 
A  widew  clene  in  body,  herte  and  al. 
For  sith  I  yave  to  you  my  maidenhede, 
And  am  your  trewe  wif,  it  is  no  drede, 
God  shilde  swiche  a  lordes  wit  to  take 
Another  man  to  husbond  or  to  make. 

And  of  your  newe  wif,  God  of  his  grace 
So  graunte  you  wele  and  prosperite : 
For  I  wol  gladly  yelden  hire  my  place, 
In  which  that  I  was  blisful  wont  to  be. 
For  sith  it  liketh  you,  my  lord,  (quod  she) 
That  whilom  weren  all  myn  hertes  rest, 
That  I  shal  gon,  I  wol  go  whan  you  lest. 

But  ther  as  ye  me  profre  swiche  dowairo 
As  I  first  brought,  it  is  wel  in  my  mind, 
It  were  my  wretched  clothes,  nothing  faire, 
The  which  to  me  were  hard  now  for  to  find. 
O  goode  God!  how  gentil  and  how  kind 
Ye  semed  by  your  speche  and  your  visage, 
The  day  that  maked  was  oure  marriage ! 

But  soth  is  said,  algate  I  find  it  trewe, 
For  in  effect  it  preved  is  on  me, 
Love  is  not  old,  as  whan  that  it  is  newe. 

*  Certainly,  truly.  2  Repay. 


8734-8772.  THE  CLEREES  TALE.  239 

But  certes,  lord,  for  non  adversitee1 
To  dien  in  this  cas,  it  shal  not  be 
That  ever  in  word  or  werke  I  shal  repent, 
That  I  you  yave  niin  herte  in  hole  entent. 

My  lord,  ye  wote,  that  in  my  fadres  place 
Ye  aide  me  stripe  out  of  my  poure  wede, 
And  richely  ye  clad  me  of  your  grace ; 
To  you  brought  I  nought  elles  out  of  drede, 
But  faith,  and  nakednesse,  and  maidenhede; 
And  here  agen  your  clothing  I  restore, 
And  eke  your  wedding  ring  for  evermore. 

The  remenant  of  your  jeweles  redy  be 
Within  your  chambre,  I  dare  it  safly  sain; 
Naked  out  of  my  fadres  hous  (quod  she) 
I  came,  and  naked  I  mote  turne  again. 
All  your  plesance  wolde  I  folwe  fain: 
But  yet  I  hope  it  be  not  your  entent, 
That  I  smokies  out  of  your  paleis  went. 

Ye  coude  not  do  so  dishonest  a  thing, 
That  thilke  wombe,  in  which  your  children  lay, 
Shulde  before  the  peple,  in  my  walking, 
Be  seen  al  bare:  wherfore  I  you  pray 
Let  me  not  like  a  worme  go  by  the  way: 
Bemembre  you,  min  owen  lord  so  dere, 
I  was  your  wif,  though  I  unworthy  were. 

Wherfore  in  guerdon  of  my  maidenhede, 
Which  that  I  brought  and  not  agen  I  bere, 
As  vouchesauf  to  yeve  me  to  my  mede 
But  swiche  a  smok  as  I  was  wont  to  were, 
That  I  therwith  may  wrie2  the  wombe  of  hire 
That  was  your  wif:  and  here  I  take  my  leve 
Of  you,  min  owen  lord,  lest  I  you  greve. 

The  smok,  quod  he,  that  thou  hast  on  thy  bake, 
Let  it  be  still,  and  bere  it  forth  with  thee. 
But  wel  unnethes3  thilke  word  he  spake, 
But  went  his  way  for  routhe  and  for  pitee. 
Before  the  folk  hireselven  stripeth  she, 
And  in  hire  smok,  with  foot  and  hed  al  bare, 
Toward  hire  fadres  hous  forth  is  she  fare. 

»  For  it  were  no  adversity. 

3  Cover.  *  Bight  uneasily. 


240  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8773-8810. 

The  folk  hire  folwen  weping  in  hir  wey, 
And  fortune  ay  they  cursen  as  they  gon : 
But  she  fro  weping  kept  hire  eyen  drey, 
Ne  in  this  time  word  ne  spake  she  non. 
Hire  fader,  that  this  tiding  herd  anon, 
Curseth  the  day  and  time,  that  nature 
Shope  him  to  ben  a  lives  creature. 

For  out  of  doute  this  olde  poure  man 
Was  ever  in  suspect  of  hire  mariage: 
For  ever  he  demed,  sin  it  first  began, 
That  whan  the  lord  fulfilled  had  his  corage, 
Him  wolde  thinke  it  were  a  disparage 
To  his  estat,  so  lowe  for  to  alight, 
And  voiden  hire  as  sone  as  ever  he  might. 

Agein  his  doughter  hastily  goth  he, 
(For  he  by  noise  of  folk  knew  hire  coming) 
And  with  hire  olde  cote,  as  it  might  be, 
He  covereth  hire  ful  sorwefully  weping: 
But  on  hire  body  might  he  it  not  bring, 
For  rude  was  the  cloth,  and  more  01  age 
By  daies  fele1  than  at  hire  mariage. 

Thus  with  hire  fader  for  a  certain  space 
Dwelleth  this  flour  of  wifly2  patience, 
That  nother  by  hire  wordes  ne  hire  face, 
Beforn  the  folk,  ne  eke  in  hir  absence, 
Ne  shewed  she  that  hire  was  don  offence, 
Ne  of  hire  high  estat  no  remembrance 
Ne  hadde  she,  as  by  hire  contenance. 

No  wonder  is,  for  in  hire  gret  estat 
Hire  gost  was  ever  in  pleine  humilitee; 
No  tendre  mouth,  no  herte  delicat, 
No  pompe,  no  semblant  of  realtee; 
But  ful  of  patient  benignitee, 
Discrete,  and  prideles,  ay  honourable, 
And  to  hire  husbond  ever  meke  and  stable. 

Men  speke  of  Job,  and  most  for  his  humblesse, 
As  clerkes,  whan  hem  list,  can  wel  endite, 
Namely  of  men,  but  as  in  sothiastnesse, 

1  Many.  «  True. 


8811-8845.  THE  CLERKES   TALE.  241 

Though  clerkes  preisen  women  but  a  lite, 
Ther  can  no  man  in  humblesse  him  acquite 
As  woman  can,  ne  can  be  half  so  trewe 
As  women  ben,  but  it  be  falle  of  newe. 


PARS  SEXTA. 

Fro  Boloigne  is  this  erl  of  Pavie  come, 
Of  which  the  fame  up  sprang  to  more  and  lease : 
And  to  the  peples  eres  all  and  some 
Was  couth1  eke,  that  a  newe  markisesse 
He  with  him  brought,  in  swiche  pomp  and  richesse, 
That  never  was  ther  seen  with  mannes  eye 
So  noble  array  in  al  West  Lumbardie. 

The  markis,  which  that  shope2  and  knew  all  this, 
Er  that  this  erl  was  come,  sent  his  message 
For  thilke  poure  sely  Grisildis  ; 
And  she  with  humble  herte  and  glad  visage, 
Not  with  no  swollen  thought  in  hire  corage, 
Came  at  his  hest,  and  on  hire  knees  hire  sette, 
And  reverently  and  wisely  she  him  grette. 

Grisilde,  (quod  he)  my  will  is  utterly, 
This  maiden,  that  shal  wedded  be  to  me, 
Beceived  be  to-morwe  as  really 
As  it  possible  is  in  myn  hous  to  be : 
And  ek:e  that  every  wight  in  his  degree 
Have  his  estat  in  sitting  and  service, 
And  high  plesance,  as  I  can  best  devise. 

I  have  no  woman  suffisant  certain  - 
The  chambres  for  to  array  in  ordinance 
After  my  lust,  and  therfore  wolde  I  fain, 
That  thin  were  all  swiche  manere  governance: 
Thou  knowest  eke  of  old  all  my  plesance ; 
Though  thin  array  be  bad,  and  evil  besey, 
Do  thou  thy  devoir  at  the  leste  wey. 

Not  only,  lord,  that  I  am  glad  (quod  she) 
To  don  your  lust,  but  I  desire  also 
You  for  to  serve  and  plese  in  my  degree, 

1  Known.  s  Shaped,  devised. 

21 


242  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8846*8880. 

Withouten  fainting,  and  shal  evermo : 
Ne  never  for  no  wele,  ne  for  no  wo, 
Ne  shal  the  gost  within  myn  herte  stente 
To  love  you  best  with  all  my  trewe  entente. 

And  with  that  word  she  gan  the  hous  to  dight,* 
And  tables  for  to  sette,  and  beddes  make, 
And  peined  hire  to  don  all  that  she  might, 
Praying  the  chambereres  for  Goddes  sake 
To  hasten  hem,  and  faste  swepe  and  shake, 
And  she  the  moste  serviceable  of  all 
Hath  every  chambre  arraied,  and  his  hall. 

Abouten  undern2  gan  this  erl  alight, 
That  with  him  brought  thise  noble  children  twey; 
For  which  the  peple  ran  to  see  the  sight 
Of  hir  array,  so  richely  besey : 
And  than  at  erst  amonges  hem  they  sey, 
That  Walter  was  no  fool,  though  that  him  lest 
To  change  his  wif ;  for  it  was  for  the  best. 

For  she  is  fairer,  as  they  demen  all, 
Than  is  Grisilde,  and  more  tendre  of  age, 
And  fairer  fruit  betwene  hem  shulde  fall. 
And  more  plesant  for  hire  high  linage : 
Hire  brother  eke  so  faire  was  of  visage, 
That  hem  to  seen  the  peple  hath  caught  plesance, 
Commending  now  the  markis  governance. 

O  stormy  peple,  unsad  and  ever  untrewe, 
And  undiscrete,  and  changing  as  a  fane,3 
Delighting  ever  in  rombel4  that  is  newe, 
For  like  the  mone  waxen  ye  and  wane : 
Ay  ful  of  clapping,  dere  ynough  a  jane,5 
Your  domefi  is  fals,  your  Constance  evil  preveth, 
A  ful  gret  fool  is  he  that  on  you  leveth/ 

Thus  saiden  sade  folk  in  that  citee, 
Whan  that  the  peple  gased  up  and  doun: 
For  they  were  glad,  right  for  the  noveltee, 

1  Decorate.  3  Nine  o'clock.  3  Vane,  weathercock. 

4  Rumour.  *  A  small  coin,  properly  of  Jan  ua, »".  e.,  Genoa, 

<  Judgment  7  Belie veth. 


8881-S915.  THE  CLERKES  TALE.  243 

To  have  a  newe  lady  of  hir  toun. 
No  more  of  this  make  I  now  mentioun, 
But  to  Grisilde  agen  I  wol  me  dresse, 
And  telle  hire  Constance,  and  hire  besinesse. 

Ful  besy  was  Grisilde  in  every  thing, 
That  to  the  feste  was  appertinent ; 
Right  naught  was  she  abaist1  of  hire  clothing, 
Though  it  were  rude,  and  somdel  eke  to-rent, 
But  with  glad  chenrto  the  yate2  is  went 
With  other  folk,  to  grete  the  markisesse, 
And  after  that  doth  forth  hire  besinesse. 

With  so  glad  chere  his  gestes  she  receiveth, 
And  conningly  everich  in  his  degree, 
That  no  defaute  no  man  apperceiveth, 
But  ay  they  wondren  what  she  mighte  be, 
That  in  so  poure  array  was  for  to  see, 
And  coude3  swiche  honour  and  reverence, 
And  worthily  they  preisen  hire  prudence. 

In  all  this  mene  while  she  ne  stent 
This  maide  and  eke  hire  brother  to  commend 
With  all  hire  herte  in  ful  benigne  en  tent, 
So  wel,  that  no  man  coud  hire  preise  amend: 
But  at  the  last  whan  that  thise  lordes  wend 
To  sitten  doun  to  mete,  he  gan  to  call 
Grisilde,  as  she  was  besy  in  the  hall. 

Grisilde,  (quod  he,  as  it  were  in  his  play) 
How  liketh  thee  my  wif,  and  hire  beautee  ? 
Eight  wel,  my  lord,  quod  she,  for  in  good  fay, 
A  fairer  saw  I  never  non  than  she: 
I  pray  to  God  yeve  you  prosperitee ; 
And  so  I  hope,  that  he  wol  to  you  send 
Plesance  ynough  unto  your  lives  end. 

O  thing  beseche  I  you  and  warne  also, 
That  ye  ne  prikke  with  no  turmenting 
This  tendre  maiden  as  ye  han  do  mo:4 

)  Ashamed.  *  Gate. 

*  Understood.  *  Me. 


244  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8916-8953. 

For  she  is  fostred  in  hire  norishing 
More  tendrely,  and  to  my  supposing 
She  mighte  not  adversitee  endure, 
As  coude  a  poure1  fostred  creature. 

And  whan  this  Walter  saw  hire  patience, 
Hire  glade  chere,  and  no  malice  at  all, 
And  he  so  often  hadde  hire  don  offence, 
And  she  ay  sade  and  constant  as  a  wall, 
Continuing  ever  hire  innocence  over  all, 
This  sturdy  markis  gan  his  herte  dresse 
To  rewe2  upon  hire  wifly  stedefastnesse. 

This  is  ynough,  Grisilde  min,  quod  he, 
Be  now  no  more  agast,  ne  evil  apaid, 
I  have  thy  faith  and  thy  henignitee, 
As  wel  as  ever  woman  was,  assaid3 
I4  gret  estat,  and  pourelich  arraied : 
Now  know  I,  dere  wif,  thy  stedefastnesse, 
And  hire  in  armes  toke,  and  gan  to  kesse. 

And  she  for  wonder  toke  of  it  no  kepe  f 
She  herde  not  what  thing  he  to  hire  said: 
She  ferde6  as  she  had  stert  out  of  a  slepe, 
Til  she  out  of  hire  masednesse"  abraid. 
Grisilde,  quod  he,  by  God  that  for  us  deid, 
Thou  art  my  wif,  non  other  I  ne  have, 
Ne  never  had,  as  God  my  soule  save. 

This  is  thy  doughter,  which  thou  hast  supposed 
To  be  my  wif;  that  other  faithfully 
Shal  be  min  heir,  as  I  have  ay  disposed ; 
Thou  bare  hem  of  thy  body  trewely: 
At  Boloigne  have  I  kept  hem  prively: 
,  Take  hem  agen,  for  now  maist  thou  not  say," 
That  thou  hast  lorn  non  of  thy  children  tway. 

And  folk,  that  otherwise  han  said  of  me, 
I  warne  hem  wel,  that  I  have  don  this  dede 
For  no  malice,  ne  for  no  crueltee, 
But  for  to  assay  in  thee  thy  womanhede: 
And  not  to  slee  my  children  (God  forbede) 

1  Poorly.  2  Address  to  pity.  » Tested. 

4 In.  « Heed.  'Feared.     '  'Surprise. 


8953-8989.  THE  CLERKES  TALE,  245 

But  for  to  kepe  hem  prively  and  still, 
Til  I  thy  purpos  knew,  and  all  thy  wilL 

Whan  she  this  herd  aswoune  doun  she  falleth 
For  pitous  joye,  and  after  hire  swouning 
She  both  hire  yonge  children  to  hire  calleth, 
And  in  hire  armes  pitously  weping 
Embraceth  hem,  and  tendrely  kissing 
Ful  like  a  moder  with  hire  salte  teres 
She  bathed  both  hir  visage  and  hir  heres. 

O,  which  a  pitous  thing  it  was  to  see 
Hire  swouning,  and  hire  humble  vois  to  here! 
Grand  mercy >  lord,  God  thank  it  you  (quod  she) 
That  ye  han  saved  me  my  children  dere: 
Now  rekke1 1  never  to  be  ded  right  here, 
Sin  I  stond  in  your  love,  and  in  your  grace, 
No  force  of  deth,  ne  whan  my  spirit  pace. 

O  tendre,  o  dere,  o  yonge  children  mine, 
Your  woful  mother  wened2  stedfastly, 
That  cruel  houndes,  or  som  foul  vermine 
Had  eten  you ;  but  God  of  his  mercy, 
And  your  benigne  fader  tendrely 
Hath  don  you  kepe :  and  in  that  same  stound* 
Al  sodenly  she  swapt4  adoun  to  ground. 

And  in  hire  swough5  so  sadly  holdeth  she 
Hire  children  two,  whan  she  gan  hem  embrace, 
That  with  gret  sleight  and  gret  difficultee 
The  children  from  hire  arm  they  gan  arrace 
O  !  many  a  tere  on  many  a  pitous  face 
Doun  ran  of  hem  that  stoden  hire  beside, 
Unnethe  abouten  hire  might  they  abide. 

Walter  hire  gladeth,6  and  hire  sorwe  slaketh, 
She  riseth  up  abashed  from  hire  trance, 
And  every  wight  hire  joye  and  feste  maketh, 
Til  she  hath  caught  agen  hire  contenance. 
Walter  hire  doth  so  faithfully  plesance, 
That  it  was  deintee  for  to  seen  the  chere 
Betwix  hem  two,  sin  they  ben  met  in  fere.7 

l  Care.  •  Thought, 

*  Moment.  *  FelL  8  Swoon. 

•  Gladdeneth.  7  Together. 

21* 


246  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  8990-9027. 

Thise  ladies,  whan  that  they  hir1  time  sey, 
Han  taken  hire,  and  into  chambre  gon, 
And  stripen  hire  out  of  hire  rude  arrey, 
And  in  a  cloth  of  gold  that  brighte  shone, 
"With  a  coroune  of  many  a  riche  stone 
Upon  hire  hed,  they  into  hall  hire  broughte : 
And  ther  she  was  honoured  as  hire  ought. 

Thus  hath  this  pitous  day  a  blisful  end ; 
For  every  man,  and  woman,  doth  his  might 
Phis  day  in  mirth  and  revel  to  dispend, 
Til  on  the  welkin2  shone  the  sterres  bright: 
For  more  solempne  in  every  mannes  sight 
This  feste  was,  and  greter  of  costage, 
Than  was  the  revel  of  hire  mariage. 

Ful  many  a  yere  in  high  prosperitee 
Liven  thise  two  in  concord  and  in  rest^ 
And  richely  his  doughter  maried  he 
Unto  a  lord,  on  of  the  worthiest 
Of  all  Itaille,  and  than  in  pees  and  rest 
His  wives  fader  in  his  court  he  kepeth, 
Til  that  the  soule  out  of  his  body  crepeth. 

His  sone  succedeth  in  his  heritage, 
In  rest  and  pees,  after  his  fadres  day: 
And  fortunat  was  eke  in  mariage, 
AP  put  he  not  his  wif  in  gret  assay : 
This  world  is  not  so  strong,  it  is  no  nay, 
As  it  hath  ben  in  olde  times  yore, 
And  herkneth,  what  this  auctour  saith  therfore. 

This  story  is  said,  not  for  that  wives  shuld 
Folwe  Grisilde,  as  in  humilitee, 
For  it  were  importable,4  tho  they  wold ; 
But  for  that  every  wight  in  his  degree 
Shulde  be  constant  in  adversitee, 
As  was  Grisilde,  therfore  Petrark  writeth 
This  storie,  which  with  high  stile  he  enditeth. 

For  sith  a  woman  was  so  patient 
Unto  a  mortal  man,  wel  more  we  ought 
Eeceiven  all  in  gree5  that  God  us  sent. 

1  Their  « Heaven.  » Although. 

*  Unbearable.  *  Grace. 


9028-9062.  THE  CLEBKES  TALE.  247 

For  gret  skill  is  he  preve  that  he  wrought: 
But  he  ne  tempteth  no  man  that  he  bought, 
As  saith  seint  Janie,  if  ye  his  pistell1  rede; 
He  preveth  folk  al  day,  it  is  no  drede : 

And  suffreth  us,  as  for  our  exercise, 
With  sharpe  scourges  of  adversitee 
Ful  often  to  be  bete  in  sondry  wise ; 
Not  for  to  know  our  will,  for  certes  he 
Or  we  were  borne,  knew  all  our  freeletee ;' 
And  for  our  best  is  all  his  governance ; 
Let  us  than  live  in  vertuous  suffrance. 

But  o3  word,  lordings,  herkeneth,  or  I  go 
It  were  ful  hard  to  finden  now  adayes 
In  all  a  toun  Grisildes  three  or  two : 
For  if  that  they  were  put  to  swiche  assayes, 
The  gold  of  hem  hath  now  so  bad  alayes* 
"With  bras,  that  though  the  coine  be  faire  at  eye, 
It  wolde  rather  brast  atwo5  than  plie.6 

For  which  here,  for  the  wives  love  of  Bathe, 
Whos  lif  and  al  hire  secte  God  maintene 
In  high  maistrie,  and  elles  were  it  scathe, 
I  wol  with  lusty  herte  fresshe  and  grene, 
Say  you  a  song  to  gladen  you,  I  wene : 
And  let  us  stint  of'  ernestful  matere. 
Herkneth  my  song,  that  saith  in  this  manere. 

Grisilde  is  ded,  and  eke  hire  patience, 
And  both  at  ones  buried  in  ItaUle : 
For  which  I  crie  in  open  audience, 
No  wedded  man  so  hardy  be  to  assaille 
His  wives  patience,  in  trust8  to  find 
Grisildes,  for  in  certain  he  shal  faille. 

O  noble  wives,  ful  of  high  prudence, 
Let  non  humilitee  your  tonges  naile : 
Ne  let  no  clerk  have  cause  or  diligence 
To  write  of  you  a  storie  of  swiche  mervaille, 

»  Epistle.  2  Frailty. 

»  One.  *  Alloys.  8  Burst  in  two. 

•  Yield.  7  Cease  from.  *  In  hopes. 


248  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  9063-9086. 

As  of  Grisildis  patient  and  kinde, 

Lest  Chichevache1  you  swalwe  in  hire  entraillo. 

Folweth  ecco,2  that  holdeth  no  silence, 
But  ever  answereth  at  the  countretaill*  :3 
Beth  not  bedaffed4  for  your  innocence, 
But  sharply  taketh  on  you  the  governaille: 
Emprenteth  wel  this  lesson  in  your  ininde, 
For  coinun  profit,  sith  it  may  availle. 

Ye  archewives,  stondeth  ay  at  defence, 
Sin  ye  be  strong,  as  is  a  gret  camaille,6 
Ne  suffreth  not,  that  men  do  you  offence. 
And  sclendre  wives,  feble  as  in  bataille, 
Beth  egre  as  is  a  tigre  yond  in  Inde ; 
Ay  clappeth6  as  a  mill,  I  you  counsaille. 

Ne  drede  hem  not,  doth  hem  no  reverence, 
For  though  thin  husbond  armed  be  in  maille, 
The  arwes  of  thy  crabbed  eloquence 
Shal  perce  his  brest,  and  eke  his  aventaille:7 
In  jalousie  T  rede  eke  thou  him  binde, 
And  thou  shalt  make  him  couche  as  doth  a  quaille. 

If  thou  be  faire,  ther8  folk  ben  in  presence 
Shew  thou  thy  visage,  and  thin  apparaille: 
If  thou  be  fovde,  be  free  of  thy  dispence, 
To  get  thee  frendes  ay  do  thy  travaille: 

1  This  excellent  reading  is  restored  upon  the  authority  of  the  best 
MSS.  instead  of  the  common  one,  Chechiface.  The  allusion  is  to  the 
subject  of  an  old  ballad,  which  is  still  preserved  in  MS.  Harl.  2251.  fol. 
270.  b.  It  is  a  kind  of  pageant,  in  which  two  beasts  are  introduced, 
called  Bycorne  and  Chichevache.  The  first  is  supposed  to  feed  upon 
obedient  httsbunds,  and  the  other  upon  patient  trivet;  and  the  humour  of 
the  piece  consists  in  representing  Bicorne  as  pampered  with  a  super- 
fluity of  food,  and  Chichevache  as  half  starved. — Tyrwhitt. 

2  Echo.  3  A  tally,  answering  exactly  to  the  other. 
*  Fooled.                             *  Camel.  6  Talk,  rattle. 

7  The  forepart  of  the  armour.  Sk.  He  deduces  it  from  avant.  But 
ventaille  was  the  common  name  for  that  aperture  in  a  close  helmet 
through  which  the  wearer  was  to  breathe,  Nicot,  in  v.;  so  that  perhaps 
aventaille  meant  originally  an  helmet  with  such  an  aperture ;  un  heaum* 
a  ventaille. 

8  Where. 


8087-9088.  THE  CLERKEB  TALE.  249 

Be  ay  of  chere  as  light  as  lefe  on  linde, 

And  let  him  care,  and  wepe,  and  wringe,  and  waille.1 

1  Ty rwhitt  has  the  following  remarks,  which  deserve  notice :  Beside 
the  MSS.  C.  I.  Ask.  I.  2,  and  others,  we  have  the  authority  of  both 
Caxton's  Editt.  for  concluding  the  Clerkes  Tale  in  this  manner.  I  say 
nothing  of  the  two  Editt.  by  Pynson,  as  they  are  mere  copies  of  Caxton's 
second.  But  I  must  not  conceal  a  circumstance,  which  seems  to 
contradict  the  supposition  that  the  Marchant't  Prologue  followed  imme- 
diately.   In  those  same  MSS.  the  following  stanza  is  interposed : — 

This  worthy  Clerk  whan  ended  was  his  tale, 

Our  Hoste  saide  and  swore  by  cockes  bones, 

Me  were  lever  than  a  barrel  of  ale 

My  wif  at  home  had  herd  this  legend  ones ; 

This  is  a  gentil  tale  for  the  nones, 

As  to  my  purpos,  wiste  ye  my  wille, 

But  thing  that  wol  not  be,  let  it  be  stillo. 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  genuineness  of  these  lines,  they  can 
at  best,  in  my  opinion,  be  considered  as  a  fragment  of  an  unfinished 
Prologue,  which  Chaucer  might  once  have  intended  to  place  at  the  end 
of  the  Clerkei  tale.  When  he  determined  to  connect  that  tale  with  the 
Marchant't  in  another  manner,  he  may  be  supposed,  notwithstanding, 
to  have  left  this  Stanza  for  the  present  uncancelled  in  his  MS.  He  has 
made  use  of  the  thought,  and  some  of  the  lines,  in  the  Prologue  which 
connects  the  Monkei  Tale  with  Metibee,  Tex.  13895— 13900. 


250 
THE  MARCHANTES  PROLOGUE. 

90S9-9120. 

Weping  and  wailing,  care  and  other  sorwe 
I  have  ynough,  on  even  and  on  morwe, 
Quod  the  marchant,  and  so  have  other  mo, 
That  wedded  ben ;  I  trowe  that  it  be  so: 
For  wel  I  wot  it  fareth  so  by  me. 
I  have  a  wif,  the  werste  that  may  be, 
For  though  the  fend  to  hire  ycoupled  were, 
She  wolde  him  overmatche  I  dare  wel  swere, 
"What  shulde  I  you  reherse  in  special 
Hire  high  malice  ?  she  is  a  shrew  at  al.1 

Ther  is  a  long  and  a  large  difference 
Betwix  Grisildes  grete  patience, 
And  of  my  wif  the  passing  crueltee. 
Were  I  unbounden,  all  so  mote  I  the, 
I  wolde  never  eft2  comen  in  the  snare. 
We  wedded  men  live  in  sorwe  and  care, 
Assay  it  who  so  wol,  and  he  shal  finde 
That  I  say  soth,  by  seint  Thomas  of  Inde, 
As  for  the  more  part,  I  say  not  alle ; 
God  shilde  that  it  shulde  so  befalle. 

A,  good  sire  hoste,  I  have  ywedded  be 
Thise  monethes  two,  and  more  not  parde  ; 
And  yet  I  trowe  that  he,  that  all  his  lif 
Wines  hath  ben,  though  that  men  wolde  him  rife8 
Into  the  herte,  ne  coude  in  no  manere 
Tellen  so  much  sorwe,  as  I  you  here 
Coud  tellen  of  my  wives  cursednesse. 

Now,  quod  our  hoste,  marchant,  so  God  you  blesse, 
Sin  ye  so  mochel  knowen  of  that  art, 
Ful  hertely  I  pray  you  tell  us  part. 

Gladly,  quod  he,  but  of  min  owen  sore    „ 
For  sory  herte  I  tellen  may  no  more. 

1  In  all  respects.  2  Again.  >  Thrust  through,  stab. 


251 


III  pirrfrwtii  *»lt 


9121-9152. 

Whilom  ther  was  dwelling  in  Lumbardie 
A  worthy  knight,  that  born  was  at  Pavie 
In  which  he  lived  in  gret  prosperitee; 
And  sixty  yere  a  wifles  man  was  he, 
And  folwed  ay  his  bodily  delit 
On  women,  ther  as  was  his  appetit, 
As  don  thise  fooles  that  ben  seculere. 
And  whan  that  he  was  passed  sixty  yere, 
Were  it  for  holinesse  or  for  dotage, 
I  cannot  sain,  but  swiche  a  gret  corage 
Hadde  this  knight  to  ben  a  wedded  man, 
That  day  and  night  he  doth  all  that  he  can 
To  espien,  wher  that  he  might  wedded  be; 
Praying  our  lord  to  granten  him,  that  he 
Mighte  ones  knowen  of  that  blisful  lit, 
That  is  betwix  an  husbond  and  his  wif, 
And  for  to  live  under  that  holy  bond, 
With  which  God  firste  man  and  woman  bond. 
Non  other  lif  (said  he)  is  worth  a  bene: 
For  wedlok  is  so  esy  and  so  clene, 
That  in  this  world  it  is  a  paradise. 
Thus  saith  this  olde  knight,  that  was  so  wise. 

And  certainly,  as  soth  as  God  is  king, 
To  take  a  wif,  it  is  a  glorious  thing, 
And  namely  whan  a  man  is  old  and  hore,1 
Than  is  a  wif  the  fruit  of  his  tresore ; 
Than  shuld  he  take  a  yong  wif  and  a  faire, 
On  which  he  might  engendren  him  an  heire 
And  lede  his  lif  in  joye  and  in  solas, 
Wheras  thise  bachelers  singen  alas, 
Whan  that  they  finde  any  adversitee 
In  love,  which  n'is  but  childish  vanitee. 

*  Hoar/,  grey. 


252  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  9153-9192. 

And  trewely  it  sit  wel  to  be  so, 

That  bachelers  have  often  peine  and  wo: 

On  brotel  ground  they  bilde,  and  brotelnesse 

They  finden,  whan  they  wenen1  sikernesse : 

They  live  but  as  a  bird  or  as  a  beste, 

In  libertee  and  under  non  areste, 

Ther  as  a  wedded  man  in  his  estat 

Liveth  a  lit  blisful  and  ordinat, 

Under  the  yoke  of  manage  ybound: 

"Wel  may  his  herte  in  joye  and  blisse  abound. 

For  who  can  be  so  buxom2  as  a  wif? 

Who  is  so  trewe  and  eke  so  ententif 

To  kepe  him,  sike  and  hole,3  as  is  his  make  f* 

For  wele  or  wo  she  n'ill  him  not  forsake : 

She  n'is  not  wery  him  to  love  and  serve, 

Though  that  he  lie  bedrede5  til  that  he  sterve.* 

And  yet  som  clerkes  sain,  it  is  not  so, 
Of  which  he  Theophrast  is  on  of  tho : 
What  force  though  Theophrast  list  for  to  lie? 

Ne  take  no  wif,  quod  he,  for  husbondrie, 
As  for  to  spare  in  noushold  thy  dispence: 
A  trewe  servant  doth  more  diligence 
Thy  good  to  kepe,  than  doth  thin  owen  wi£ 
For  she  wol  claimen  half  part  al  hire  lif. 
And  if  that  thou  be  sike,  so  God  me  save, 
Thy  veray  frendes  or  a  trewe  knave 
Wol  kepe  thee  bet  than  she,  that  waiteth  ay 
After  thy  good,  and  hath  don  many  a  day. 

This  sentence,  and  an  hundred  things  werse 
Writeth  this  man  ther  God  his  bones  curse. 
But  take  no  kepe  of  al  swiche  vanitee, 
Defieth  Theophrast,  and  herkeneth  me. 

A  wif  is  Goddes  yefte  veraily; 
All  other  maner  yeftes  hardely, 
As  londes,  rentes,  pasture,  or  commune/ 
Or  mebles,8  all  ben  yeftes  of  fortune, 
That  passen  as  a  shadow  on  the  wall: 
But  drede9  thou  not,  if  plainly  speke  I  shal, 
A  wif  wol  last  and  in  thin  hous  endure, 
Wel  lenger  than  thee  list  paraventure. 

'  Suppose.  2  Obedient,  faithful.  *  HI  or  welL 

4  Mate.  5  Bedridden.  •  Die. 

J  Common-land,  I  suppose.  8  Moveables.  8  Doubt. 


9193-9234.  THE   MARCHANTES   TALE.  253 

Manage  is  a  ful  gret  sacrament ; 
He  which  that  hath  no  wif  I  hold  him  shent;1 
He  liveth  helples,  and  all  desolat: 
(I  speke  of  folk  in  secular  estat) 
And  herkneth  why,  I  say  not  this  for  nought,  . 
That  woman  is  for  mannes  helpe  ywrought. 
The  highe  God,  whan  he  had  Adam  maked, 
And  saw  him  al  alone  belly  naked, 
God  of  his  grete  goodnesse  saide  than, 
Let  us  now  make  an  helpe  unto  this  man 
Like  to  himself,  and  than  he  made  him  Eve. 

Here  may  ye  see,  and  hereby  may  ye  preve, 
That  a  wif  is  mannes  helpe  and  his  comfort, 
His  paradis  terrestre  and  his  disport: 
So  buxom  and  so  vertuous  is  she, 
They  mosten  nedes  live  in  unitee : 
O  flesh  they  ben,  and  o  flesh,  as  I  gesse, 
Hath  but  on  herte  in  wele  and  in  distresse. 

A  wif?  a!  seinte  Marie,  benedicite, 
How  might  a  man  have  any  adversite 
That  hath  a  wif  ?  certes  I  cannot  seye. 
The  blisse  the  which  that  is  betwix  hem  tweye 
Ther  may  no  tonge  telle  or  herte  thinke. 
If  he  be  poure,  she  helpeth  him  to  swinke ; 
She  kepeth  his  good,  and  wasteth  never  a  del ; 
All  that  hire  husbond  doth,  hire  liketh  wel; 
She  saith  not  ones  nay,  whan  he  saith  ye; 
Do  this,  saith  he;  al  redy,  sire,  saith  she. 

O  blisful  ordre,  o  wedlok  precious, 
Thou  art  so  mery,  and  eke  so  vertuous, 
And  so  commended,  and  approved  eke, 
That  every  man  that  holt2  him  worth  a  leke, 
Upon  his  bare  knees  ought  all  his  lif 
Thanken  his  God,  that  him  hath  sent  a  wif, 
Or  elles  pray  to  God  him  for  to  send 
A  wif,  to  last  unto  his  lives  end. 
For  than  his  lif  is  set  in  sikernesse,*  <u 

He  may  not  be  deceived,  as  I  gesse, 
So  that  he  werche  after  his  wives  rede; 
Than  may  he  boldly  beren  up  his  hede, 
They  ben  so  trewe,  and  therwithal  so  wise. 
For  which,  if  thou  wilt  werchen  as  the  wise, 

1  Ruined.  3  Holds.  *  Security. 

22 


251  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  9285-9274. 

Do  alway  so,  as  women  wol  thee  rede. 

Lo  how  that  Jacob,  as  thise  clerkes  rede, 
By  good  conseil  of  his  mother  Rebekke 
Bounde  the  kiddes  skin  about  his  nekke; 
For  which  his  fadres  benison  he  wan. 

Lo  Judith,  as  the  storie  eke  tell  can, 
By  good  conseil  she  Goddes  peple  kept, 
And  slow  him  Holofernes  while  he  slept. 

Lo  Abigail,  by  good  conseil  how  she 
Saved  hire  husbond  Nabal,  whan  that  he 
Shuld  han  be  slain.    And  loke,  Hester  also 
By  good  conseil  delivered  out  of  wo 
The  peple  of  God,  and  made  him  Mardochee 
Of  Assuere  enhaunsed  for  to  be. 

Ther  n'is  no  thing  in  gree  superlatit 
(As  saith  Senek)  above  an  humble  wif. 
Suffer  thy  wives  tonge,  as  Caton  bit,1 
She  shal  command,  and  thou  shalt  suffren  it, 
And  yet  she  wol  obey  of  curtesie.     " 

A  wif  is  keper  of  thin  husbondrie: 
Wei  may  the  sike  man  bewaile  and  wepe, 
Ther  as  ther  is2  no  wif  the  hous  to  kepe. 
I  warne  thee,  if  wisely  thou  wilt  werche, 
Love  wel  thy  wif,  as  Crist  loveth  his  cherche 
If  thou  lovest  thyself,  love  thou  thy  wif. 
No  man  hateth  his  flesh,  but  in  his  lif 
He  fostreth  it,  and  therfore  bid  I  thee 
Cherish  thy  wif,  or  thou  shalt  never  the.8 
Husbond  and  wif,  what  so  men  jape  or  play, 
Of  worldly  folk  holden  the  siker  way: 
They  ben  so  knit,  ther4  may  non  harm  betide, 
And  namely  upon  the  wives  side. 

For  which  this  January,  of  whom  I  told, 
Considered  hath  within  his  dayes  old 
The  lusty  lif,  the  vertuous  quiete, 
That  is  in  mariage  hony-swete. 
And  for  bis  frendes  on  a  day  he  sent 
To  tellen  hem  th'  effect  of  his  entent. 

With  face  sad,  his  tale  he  hath  hem  told : 
He  sayde,  frendes,  I  am  hore  and  old, 

»  Biddeth,  cf.  Cato,  Distich,  iii.  25.  "  Uxoris  linguam,  si  frugi  est,  ferre 
memento." 
2  /. «.,  where  there  is.  3  Thrive.  «  Them. 


9275-8314.  THE  MARCHANTES   TALE.  255 

And  almost  (God  wot)  on  my  pittes  brinke, 
Upon  my  soule  somwhat  most  I  thinke. 
I  have  my  body  folily1  dispended, 
Blessed  be  God  that  it  shal  ben  amended: 
For  I  wol  ben  certain  a  wedded  man, 
And  that  anon  in  all  the  hast  I  can, 
Unto  som  maiden,  faire  and  tendre  of  age, 
I  pray  you  shapeth  for  my  mariage 
All  sodenly,  for  I  wol  not  abide : 
And  I  wol  fonde2  to  espien  on  my  side, 
To  whom  I  may  be  wedded  hastily. 
But  for  as  moche  as  ye  ben  more  than  I, 
Ye  shullen  rather  swiche  a  thing  espien 
Than  I,  and  wher  me  beste  were  to  allien. 

But  o  thing  warn  I  you,  my  frendes  dere, 
I  wol  non  old  wif  han  in  no  manere: 
She  shal  not  passen  twenty  yere  certain. 
Old  fish  and  yonge  flesh  wold  I  have  fain. 
Bet  is  (quod  he)  a  pike  than  a  pikerel, 
And  bet  than  old  beef  is  the  tendre  veeL 
I  wol  no  woman  thirty  yere  of  age, 
It  is  but  benestraw  and  gret  forage. 
And  eke  thise  olde  widewes  (God  it  wote) 
They  connen  so  moch  craft  on  Wades  bote,3 
So  mochel  broken  harm  whan  that  hem  lest, 
That  with  hem  shuld  I  never  live  in  rest. 
For  sondry  scoles  maken  subtil  clerkes ; 
Woman  of  many  scoles  half  a  clerk  is. 
But  certainly,  a  yong  thing  men  may  gie, 
Right  as  men  may  warm  wax  with  handes  plie,* 
Wherfore  I  say  you  plainly  in  a  clause, 
I  wol  non  old  wif  han  right  for  this-  cause. 

For  if  so  were  I  hadde  swiche  meschance, 
That  I  in  hire  ne  coude  have  no  plesance, 
Than  shuld  I  lede  my  lit  in  avoutrie,5 
And  so  streight  to  the  devil  whan  I  die. 
Ne  children  shuld  I  non  upon  hire  geten: 
Yet  were  me  lever  houndes  had  me  eten, 
Than  that  min  heritage  shulde  fall 
In  straunge  hondes :  and  this  I  tell  you  all. 

•  Foolishly.  -  Try. 

8  Troihu  and  Crest,  iii.  615,  the  words  "  a  tale  of  Wade"  are  put  to 
demit  some  romantic  history.  Tyrwhitt  confesses  he  cannot  explain 
the  p fount  allusion. 

*  Bending,  moulding.  &  Adultery. 


256  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  9315-9368. 

I  dote  not,  I  wot  the  cause  why 
Men  shulden  wedde :  and  furthermore  wot  I, 
Ther  speketh  many  a  man  ot  mariage, 
That  wot  no  more  of  it  than  wot  my  page, 
For  which  causes  a  man  shuld  take  a  wif. 
If  he  ne  may  not  liven  chast  his  lif, 
Take  him  a  wif  with  gret  devotion, 
Because  of  leful  procreation 
Ol  children,  to  the  honour  of  God  above, 
And  not  only  for  paramour  or  love ; 
And  for  they  shulden  lecherie  eschue, 
And  yeld  hir  dette  whan  that  it  is  due: 
Or  for  that  eche  of  hem  shuld  helpen  other 
In  meschefe,  as  a  suster  shal  the  brother, 
And  live  in  chastitee  ful  holily. 

But,  sires,  (by  your  leve)  that  am  not  I, 
For  God  be  thanked,  I  dare  make  avaunt, 
I  fele  my  limmes  stark  and  suffisant     , 
To  don  all  that  a  man  belongeth  to : 
I  wot  myselven  best  what  I  may  do. 
Though  I  be  hoor,  I  fare  as  doth  a  tre, 
That  blosmeth  er  the  fruit  ywoxen  be ; 
The  blosmy  tre  n'is  neither  drie  ne  ded.: 
I  fele  me  no  wher  hoor  but  on  my  hed. 
Mm  herte  and  all  my  limmes  ben  as  grene, 
As  laurer  thurgh  the  yere  is  for  to  sene. 
And  sin  that  ye  han  herd  all  min  entent, 
I  pray  you  to  my  will  ye  wolde  assent. 

Diverse  men  diversely  him  told 
Of  mariage  many  ensamples  old; 
Som  blamed  it,  som  praised  it  certain; 
But  atte  laste,  shortly  for  to  sain, 
(As  all  day  falleth  altercation 
Betwixen  frendes  in  disputison) 
Ther  fell  a  strif  betwix  his  brethren  two, 
Of  which  that  on  was  cleped  Placebo, 
Justinus  sothly  called  was  that  other. 

Placebo  sayd;  O  January  brother, 
Ful  litel  nede  han  ye,  my  lord  so  dere, 
Conseil  to  aske  of  any  that  is  here : 
But  that  ye  ben  so  ful  of  sapience, 
That  you  ne  liketh  for  your  high  prudence 
To  weiven1  fro  the  word  of  Salomon. 
This  word  sayd  he  unto  us  everich  on; 
1  Depart. 


9369-9400.  THE  MARCHANTES  TALE.  257 

Werke  alle  thing  by  conseil,  thus  sayd  he, 
And  than  ne  shalt  thou  not  repenten  thee. 
But  though  that  Salomon  spake  swiche  a  word, 
Min  owen  dere  brother  and  my  lord, 
So  wisly  God  my  soule  bringe  at  rest, 
I  hold  your  owen  conseil  is  the  best. 

For,  brother  min,  take  of  me  this  motif, 
I  have  now  ben  a  court-man  all  my  lif, 
And  God  it  wot,  though  I  unworthy  be, 
I  have  stonden  in  ful  gret  degree 
Abouten  lordes  of  ful  nigh  estat : 
Yet  had  I  never  with  non  of  hem  debat, 
I  never  hem  contraried  trewely. 
I  wot  wel  that  my  lord  can  more  than  I ; 
What  that  he  saith,  I  hold  it  firme  and  stable, 
I  say  the  same,  or  elles  thing  semblable. 
A  ful  gret  fool  is  any  conseillour, 
That  serveth  any  lord  of  high  honour, 
That  dare  presume,  or  ones  thinken  it, 
That  his  conseil  shuld  passe  his  lordes  wit. 
Nay,  lordes  be  no  fooles  by  my  fay. 
Ye  han  yourselven  shewed  here  to-day 
So  high  sentence,  so  holily,  and  wel, 
That  I  consent,  and  confirme  every  del 
Your  wordes  all,  and  your  opinioun. 
By  God  ther  n'is  no  man  in  all  this  toun 
Ne  in  Itaille,  coud  bet  han  ysayd: 
Crist  holt  him  of  this  conseil  wel  apaid* 
And  trewely  it  is  an  high  corage 
Of  any  man  that  stopen  is  in  age, 
To  take  a  young  wif,  by  my  fader  kin: 
Your  herte  hongeth  on  a  joly  pin. 

Doth  now  in  this  matere  right  as  you  lest, 
For  finally  I  hold  it  for  the  best. 

Justinus,  that  ay  stille  sat  and  herd, 
Right  in  this  wise  he  to  Placebo  answerd. 
Now,  brother  min,  be  patient  I  pray, 
Sin  ye  han  said,  and  herkneth  what  I  say. 

Senek  among  his  other  wordes  wise 
Saith,  that  a  man  ought  him  right  wel  a  vise, 
To  whom  he  yeveth  his  lond  or  his  catel/ 
And  sith  I  ought  avisen  me  right  wel, 

*  Good*. 
22* 


258  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  9401-9442. 

To  whom.  I  yeve  my  good  away  fro  me, 

Wei  more  I  ought  avisen  me,  parde, 

To  whom  I  yeve  my  body :  for  alway 

I  warne  you  wel  it  is  no  childes  play 

To  take  a  wif  without  avisement. 

Men  must  enqueren  (this  is  min  assent) 

Wheder  she  be  wise  and  sobre,  or  dronkelewe, 

Or  proud,  or  elles  other  waies  a  shrew, 

A  chidester,  or  a  wastour  of  thy  good, 

Or  riche  or  poure,  or  elles  a  man  is  wood. 

Al  be  it  so,  that  no  man  finden  shal 

Non  in  this  world,  that  trotteth  hoi1  in  al, 

Ne  man,  ne  beste,  swiche  as  men  can  devise, 

But  natheles  it  ought  ynough  suffice 

With  any  wif,  if  so  were  that  she  had 

Mo  goode  thewes,*  than  hire  vices  bad: 

And  all  this  axeth  leiser  to  enquere. 

For  God  it  wot,  I  have  wept  many  a  tere 

Ful  prively,  sin  that  I  had  a  wif. 

Praise  who  so  wol  a  wedded  mannes  lif, 

Certain  I  find  in  it  but  cost  and  care, 

And  observances  of  alle  blisses  bare. 

And  yet,  God  wot,  my  neighebours  aboute, 

And  namely3  of  women  many  a  route,4 

Sain  that  I  have  the  moste  stedefast  wif, 

And  eke  the  mekest  on  that  bereth  lif. 

But  I  wot  best,  wher  wringeth5  me  my  sho. 

Ye  may  for  me  right  as  you  liketh  do. 

Aviseth  you,  ye  ben  a  man  of  age, 

How  that  ye  entren  into  mariage ; 

And  namely  with  a  yong  wif  and  a  faire. 

By  him  that  made  water,  fire,  erthe,  and  aire, 

The  yongest  man,  that  is  in  all  this  route, 

Is  besy  ynow  to  bringen  it  aboute 

To  han  his  wif  alone,  trusteth  me : 

Ye  shul  not  plesen  hire  fully  yeres  three, 

This  is  to  sain,  to  don  hire  ful  plesance. 

A  wif  axeth  ful  many  an  observance. 

I  pray  you  that  ye  be  not  evil  apaid. 

Wel,  quod  this  January,  and  hast  thou  saide? 

Straw  for  Senek,  and  straw  for  thy  proverbes, 

I  counte  not  a  panier  ful  of  herbes 
1  Whole,  sound.  3  Qualities. 

*  Especially.  *  Company.  •  Finches. 


9443-9484*  THE  MAUCHANTES  TALE.  259 

Of  scole  termes ;  wiser  men  than  thou, 

As  thou  hast  herd,  assented  here  right  now 

To  my  purpos:  Placebo,  what  saye  ye? 

I  say  it  is  a  cursed  man,  quod  he, 
That  letteth  matrimoine  sikerly.1 
And  Miith.  that  word  they  risen  sodenly, 
And  ben  assented  fully,  that  he  sholde 
Be  wedded  whan  him  list,  and  wher  he  wolde. 

High  fantasie  and  curious  besinesse 
Fro  day  to  day  gan  in  the  soule  empresse 
Of  January  about  his  mariage. 
Many  a  faire  shap,  and  many  a  faire  visage 
Ther  passeth  thurgh  his  herte  night  by  night. 
As  who  so  toke  a  mirrour  polished  bright, 
And  set  it  in  a  comune  market  place, 
Than  shuld  he  see  many  a  figure  pace 
By  his  mirrour,  and  in  the  same  wise 
Gan  January  in  with  his  thought  devise 
Of  maidens,  which  that  dwelten  him  beside: 
He  wiste  not  wher  that  he  might  abide. 
For  if  that  on  have  beautee  in  hire  face, 
Another  stont  so  in  the  peples  grace 
For  hire  sadnesse2  and  lure  benignitee, 
That  of  the  peple  the  gretest  vois  hath  she: 
And  som  were  riche  and  hadden  a  bad  name. 
But  natheles,  betwix  ernest  and  game, 
He  at  the  last  appointed  him  on  on, 
And  let  all  other  from  his  herte  gon, 
And  chees  hire  of  his  owen  auctoritee, 
For  love  is  blind  all  day,  and  may  not  see. 
And  whan  that  he  was  in  his  bed  ybrought, 
He  purtreied  in  his  herte  and  in  his  thought 
Hire  freshe  beautee,  and  hire  age  tendre, 
Hire  middel  smal,  hire  armes  long  and  sclendre, 
Hire  wise  governance,  hire  gentillesse, 
Hire  womanly  bering,  and  hire  sadnesse. 

And  whan  that  he  on  hire  was  condescended, 
Him  thought  his  chois  it  might  not  ben  amended; 
For  whan  that  he  himself  concluded  had, 
Him  thought  eche  other  mannes  wit  so  bad, 
That  impossible  it  were  to  replie 
Again  his  chois ;  this  was  his  fantasie. 

'  Entirely.  *  Seriousness. 


260  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  9485-9526. 

His  frendes  sent  he  to,  at  his  instance, 
And  praied  hem  to  don  him  that  plesance, 
That  hastily  they  wolden  to  him  come  ; 
He  wolde  abregge  hir  labour  all  and  some : 
Neded  no  more  to  hem  to  go  ne  ride, 
He  was  appointed  ther  he  wolde  abide.      • 

Placebo  came,  and  eke  his  frendes  sone, 
And  alderfirst  he  bade  hem  all  a  bone,1 
That  non  of  hem  non  argumentes  make 
Again  the  purpos  that  he  hath  ytake : 
"Which  purpos  was  plesant  to  God  (said  he) 
And  veray  ground  of  his  prosperitee. 

He  said,  ther  was  a  maiden  in  the  toun, 
Which  that  of  beautee  hadde  gret  renoun, 
Al  were  it  so,  she  were  of  smal  degree, 
Sufficeth  him  hire  youth  and  hire  beautee: 
Which  maid  (he  said)  he  wold  han  to  his  wif 
To  lede  in  ese  and  holinesse  his  lif : 
And  thanked  God,  that  he  might  han  hire  all, 
That  no  wight  with  his  blisse  parten  shall : 
And  praied  hem  to  labour  in  this  nede, 
And  shapen  that  he  faille  not  to  spede. 
For  than,  he  sayd,  his  spirit  was  at  ese ; 
Than  is  (quod  he)  nothing  may  me  displese, 
Save  o  thing  pricketh  in  my  conscience, 
The  which  I  wol  reherse  in  your  presence. 

I  have  (quod  he)  herd  said  ful  yore  ago, 
Ther  may  no  man  han  parfite  blisses  two, 
This  is  to  say,  in  erthe  and  eke  in  heven. 
For  though  he  kepe  him  fro  the  sinnes  seven, 
And  eke  from  every  branch  of  thilke  tree, 
Yet  is  ther  so  parfit  felicitee, 
And  so  gret  ese  and  lust  in  mariage, 
That  ever  I  am  agast  now  in  min  age, 
That  I  shal  leden  now  so  mery  a  lif, 
So  delicat,  withouten  wo  or  strif, 
That  I  shal  han  min  heven  in  erthe  here. 
For  sin  that  veray  heven  is  bought  so  dere 
With  tribulation  and  gret  penance, 
How  shuld  I  than,  living  in  swiche  plesance 
As  alle  wedded  men  don  with  hir  wives, 
Come  to  the  blisse,  ther  Crist  eterne  on  live  is? 

i  Begged  of  them  a  boon. 


9527-9568.  THE  MARCHANTES  TALE.  261 

This  is  my  drede,  and  ye,  my  brethren  tweie, 
Assoileth1  me  this  question  I  preie. 

Justinus,  which  that  hated  his  folie, 
Answerd  anon  right  in  his  japerie ; 
And  for  he  wold  his  longe  tale  abrege, 
He  wolde  non  auctoritee  allege, 
But  sayde,  sire,  so  ther  be  non  obstacle 
Other  than  this,  God  of  his  hie  miracle, 
And  of  his  mercy  may  so  for  you  werche, 
That  er  ye  have  your  rights  of  holy  cherche, 
Ye  may  repent  of  wedded  mannes  lif, 
In  which  ye  sain  ther  is  no  wo  ne  strif: 
And  elles  God  forbede,  but  if  he  sent 
A  wedded  man  his  grace  him  to  repent 
Wei  often,  rather  than  a  single  man. 
And  therfore,  sire,  the  best  rede2  that  I  can, 
Despeire  you  not,  but  haveth  in  memorie, 
Paraventure  she  may  be  your  purgatorie ; 
She  may  be  Goddes  mene  and  Goddes  whippe; 
Than  shal  your  soule  up  unto  heven  skippe 
Swifter  than  doth  an  arow  of  a  bow. 
I  hope  to  God  hereafter  ye  shal  know, 
That  ther  n'is  non  so  gret  felicitee 
In  mariage,  ne  never  more  shal  be, 
That  you  shal  let  of3  your  salvation, 
So  that  ye  use,  as  skill  is  and  reson, 
The  lustes  of  your  wif  attemprely, 
And  that  ye  plese  hire  nat  to  amorously: 
And  that  ye  kepe  you  eke  from  other  siune. 
My  tale  is  don,  for  my  wit  is  but  thinne. 
Beth  not  agast  hereof,  my  brother  dere, 
But  let  us  waden  out  of  this  matere. 
The  wif  of  Bathe,  if  ye  han  understonde, 
Of  mariage,  which  ye  now  han  in  honde, 
Declared  hath  ful  wel  in  litel  space: 
Fareth  now  wel,  God  have  you  in  his  grace. 

And  with  this  word  this  Justine  and  his  brother 
Han  take  hir  leve,  and  eche  of  hem  of  other. 
And  whan  they  saw  that  it  must  nedes  be, 
They  wroughten  so  by  sleighte  and  wise  tretee, 
That  she  this  maiden,  which  that  Maius  hight, 
As  hastily  as  fiver  that  she  might, 

i  Absolve,  answer.  *  Advise.  *  Lose. 


262  THE  CANTEBBUKY  TALES.  9569-0600. 

Shal  wedded  be  unto  this  January. 

I  trow  it  were  to  longe  you  to  tary, 

If  I  you  told  of  every  script  and  bond, 

By  which  that  she  was  feoffed1  in  his  lond ; 

Or  for  to  rekken  of  hire  rich  array. 

But  finally  yeomen  is  the  day, 

That  to  the  chirche  bothe  ben  they  went, 

For  to  receive  the  holy  sacrament. 

Forth  cometh  the  preest,  with  stole  about  bis  nekke 

And  bade  hire  be  like  Sara  and  Rebekke, 

In  wisdome  and  in  trouthe  of  mariage : 

And  sayd  his  orisons,  as  is  usage, 

And  crouched2  hem,  and  bade  God  shuld  hem  blesse, 

And  make  all  siker3  ynow  with  holinesse. 

Thus  ben  they  wedded  with  solempnitee: 
And  at  the  feste  sitteth  he  and  she 
With  other  worthy  folk  upon  the  deis.4 
Al  ful  of  joye  and  blisse  is  the  paleis, 
And  ful  of  instruments,  and  of  vitaille, 
The  moste  deinteous  of  all  Itaille. 
Beforn  hem  stood  swiche  instruments  of  soun, 
That  Orpheus,  ne  of  Thebes  Amphion, 
Ne  maden  never  swiche  a  melodie. 
At  every  cours  in  came  loude  minstralcie, 
That  never  Joab  tromped  for  to  here, 
Ne  he5  Theodomas  yet  half  so  clere 
At  Thebes,  whan  the  citee  was  in  doute. 
Bacchus  the  win  hem  skinketh6  al  aboute, 
And  Venus  laugheth  upon  every  wight, 
(For  January  was  become  hire  knight, 
And  wolde  bothe  assaien  his  corage 
In  libertee,  and  eke  in  mariage) 
And  with  hire  firebrond  in  hire  hond  aboute 
Danceth  before  the  bride  and  all  the  route. 
And  certainly  I  dare  right  wel  say  this, 
Ymeneus,  that  God  of  wedding  is, 
Saw  never  his  lif  so  mery  a  wedded  man. 

Hold  thou  thy  pees,  thou  poet  Marcian,7 

Feed,  dowered.  2  Signed  them  with  the  cross. 

1  Sure,  fast.  *  Dais. 

5  The  pronoun  he  is  nsed  emphatically.  Theodomas  was  probably  a 
celebrated  trumpeter  in  some  "romantic  history"  of  Thebes,  to  which 
the  poet  alludes. 

6  Poureth  out,  maketh  flow  freely.  ^  Marcianus  Capella. 


9607-9648.  THE  MAKCHANTES  TALE.  263 

That  writest  us  that  ilke  wedding  mery 

Of  hire  Philologie  and  him  Mercurie, 

And  of  the  songes  that  the  Muses  songe: 

To  smal  is  both  thy  pen  and  eke  thy  tonge 

For  to  descriven  of  this  mariage. 

"Whan  tendre  youth  hath  wedded  stouping  age, 

Ther  is  swiche  mirth  that  it  may  not  be  writen ; 

Assaieth  it  yourself,  than  may  ye  witen 

If  that  I  lie  or  non  in  this  matere. 

Maius,  that  sit  with  so  benigne  a  chere, 
Hire  to  behold  it  semed  faerie, 
Quene  Hester  loked  never  with  swiche  an  eye 
On  Assuere,  so  meke  a  look  hath  she, 
I  may  you  not  devise  all  hire  beautee ; 
But  thus  moch  of  hire  beautee  tell  I  may, 
That  she  was  like  the  brighte  morwe  of  May 
Fulfilled  of  all  beautee,  and  plesance. 

This  January  is  ravished  in  a  trance, 
At  every  time  he  loketh  in  hire  face, 
But  in  his  herte  he  gan  hire  to  manace, 
That  he  that  night  in  amies  wold  hire  streine 
Harder  than  ever  Paris  did  Heleine. 
But  natheles  yet  had  he  gret  pitee 
That  thilke  night  offenden  hire  must  ho, 
And  thought,  alas,  o  tendre  creature, 
Now  wolde  God  ye  mighten  wel  endure 
All  my  corage,  it  is  so  sharpe  and  kene; 
I  am  agast  ye  shal  it  nat  sustene. 
But  God  forbede,  that  I  did  all  my  might, 
Now  wolde  God  that  it  were  waxen  night, 
And  that  the  night  wold  lasten  ever  mo. 
I  wold  that  all  this  peple  were  ago. 
And  finally  he  doth  all  his  labour, 
As  he  best  mighte,  saving  his  honour, 
To  haste  hem  fro  the  mete1  in  subtil  wise. 

The  time  came  that  reson  was  to  rise, 
And  after  that  men  dance,  and  drinken  fast, 
And  spices  all  about  the  hous  they  cast, 
And  ml  of  joye  and  blisse  is  every  man, 
All  but  a  squier,  that  highte  Damian, 
"Which  carf  beforn  the  knight  ful  many  a  dav: 
He  was  so  ravisht  on  his  lady  May, 

1  From  the  banquet. 


26i  THE  CANTERBURY  TAXES.  9649-9682. 

That  for  the  veray  peine  he  was  nie  wood  ;* 
Almost  he  swelt,  and  swouned  ther  he  stood : 
So  sore  hath  Venus  hurt  him  with  hire  brond, 
As  that  she  bare  it  dancing  in  hire  bond. 
And  to  his  bed  he  went  him  hastily; 
No  more  of  him  as  at  this  time  speke  I ; 
But  ther  I  let  him  wepe  ynow  and  plaine, 
Till  freshe  May  wol  rewen  on  his  peine. 

O  perilous  fire,  that  in  the  bedstraw  bredeth! 
O  famuler  fo,2  that  his  service  bedeth  !3 
O  servant  traitour,  false  of  holy  hewe,4 
Like  to  the  nedder5  in  bosom  she  untrewe, 
God  shelde  us  alle  from  your  acquaintance! 
O  January,  dronken  in  plesance 
Of  mariage,  see  how  thy  Damian, 
Thin  owen  squier  and  thy  boren  man, 
Entendeth  for  to  do  thee  vilanie : 
God  grante  thee  thin  homly  fo  to  espie, 
For  in  this  world  n'is  werse  pestilence, 
Than  homly  fo,  all  day  in  thy  presence. 

Parformed  hath  the  sonne  his  arke  diume, 
No  longer  may  the  body  of  him  sojourne 
On  the  orisont,  as  in  that  latitude : 
Night  with  his  mantel,  that  is  derke  and  rude, 
Gan  oversprede  the  Hemisperie  aboute: 
For  which  departed  is  this  lusty  route 
Fro  January,  with  thank  on  every  side. 
Home  to  hir  houses  lustily  they  ride, 
Ther  as  they  don  hir  thinges,  as  hem  lest, 
And  whan  they  saw  hir  time  gon6  to  rest 

Sone  after  that  this  hastif  January 
Wol  go  to  bed,  he  wol  no  longer  tary. 
He  drinketh  Ipocras,  clarre,  and  vernage7 
Of  spices  hot,  to  encresen  his  corage: 

1  Mad.  »  Domestic  foe.  »  Proffereth. 

*  Cf.  vs.  13355.  "  under  hewe  of  holinesse. 

5  Adder.  6  Time  for  them  to  go. 

7  The  Vernage,  whatever  may  have  been  the  reason  of  its  name,  was 
probably  a  wine  of  Crete,  or  of  the  neighbouring  continent.  Kroiss. 
V.  iv.  c.  18.  De  l'isle  de  Candie  il  leur  venoit  tresbonnes  maltoiriet  et 
grenaches  (r.  gernachei)  dont  Us  estoient  largement  servis  et  confortez. 
Our  author  in  another  place,  ver.  13000,  1.  joins  together  the  wines  of 
Malretie  and  Vernage.  Malvasia  was  a  town  upon  the  eastern  coast  of 
the  Morea,  near  the  site  of  the  ancient  Epidauxus  Limera  within  a  small 
distance  from  Crete. — Tynchitt. 


•683-9724.  THE   MARCHANTES   TALE.  265 

And  many  a  letuarie  had  he  ful  fine, 
Swiche  as  the  cursed  monk  dan1  Constantino 
Hath  written  in  his  book  de  Coitu; 
To  ete  hem  all  he  wolde  nothing  eschue: 
And  to  his  privee  frendes  thus  sayd  he : 

For  Goddes  love,  as  sone  as  it  may  be, 
Let  voiden  all  this  hous  in  curteis  wise. 
And  they  han  don  right  as  he  wol  devise. 

Men  drinken,  and  the  travers  drawe  anon ; 
The  bride  is  brought  a-bed  as  still  as  ston ; 
And  whan  the  bed  was  with  the  preest  yblessed, 
Out  of  the  chambre  bath  every  wight  him  dressed, 
And  January  hath  fast  in  armes  take 
His  freshe  May,  his  paradis,  his  make. 
He  lulleth  hire,  he  kisseth  hire  ful  oft ; 
With  thicke  bristles  of  his  berd  unsoft, 
Like  to  the  skin  of  houndfish,  sharp  as  brere, 
(For  he  was  shave  al  newe  in  his  manere) 
He  rubbeth  hire  upon  hire  tendre  face, 
And  sayde  thus;  Alas!  I  mote  trespace 
To  you,  my  spouse,  and  you  gretly  offend, 
Or  time  come  that  I  wol  doun  descend. 
But  natheles  considereth  this  (quod  he) 
Ther  n'is  no  werkman,  whatsoever  he  be, 
That  may  both  werken  wel  and  hastily: 
This  wol  be  don  at  leiser  parfitly. 
It  is  no  force  how  longe  that  we  play ; 
In  trewe  wedlok  coupled  be  we  tway ; 
And  blessed  be  the  yoke  that  we  ben  inne, 
For  in  our  actes  may  ther  be  no  sinne. 
A  man  may  do  no  sinne  with  his  wif, 
Ne  hurt  himselven  with  his  owen  knif : 
For  we  have  leve  to  play  us  by  the  la  we. 

Thus  laboureth  he,  til  that  the"  day  gan  dawe, 
And  than  he  taketh  a  sop  in  fine  clarre, 
And  upright  in  his  bed  than  sitteth  he. 
And  after  that  he  sang  ful  loud  and  clere, 
And  kist  his  wif,  and  maketh  wanton  chere. 
He  was  al  coltish,  ful  of  ragerie, 
And  ful  of  jergon,  as  a  flecked  pie. 
The  slacke  skin  about  his  necke  shaketh, 
While  that  he  sang,  so  chanteth  he  and  craketh. 

1  Lord,  master,  a  corruption  of  Dominus.    So  Dom  is  still  used  in 
France. 

23 


266  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  9725-9762. 

But  God  wot  -what  that  May  thought  in  hire  herte, 

Whan  she  him  saw  up  sitting  in  his  shert© 

In  his  night  cap,  and  with  his  necke  lene: 

She  praiseth  not  his  playing  worth  a  bene. 

Than  sayd  he  thus ;  my  reste  wol  I  take 

Now  day  is  come,  I  may  no  lenger  wake  ; 

And  doun  he  layd  his  hed  and  slept  til  prime. 

And  afterward,  whan  that  he  saw  his  time, 

Up  riseth  January,  but  freshe  May 

Held  hire  in  chambre  til  the  fourthe  day, 

As  usage  is  of  wives  for  the  beste. 

For  every  labour  somtime  moste  han  reste, 

Or  elles  longe  may  he  n  ot  endure ; 

This  is  to  say,  no  lives  creature, 

Be  it  of  fish,  or  brid,  or  best,  or  man. 

Now  wol  I  speke  of  woful  Damian, 
That  langureth1  for  love,  as  ye  shul  here; 
Therfore  I  speke  to  him  in  this  manere. 
I  say,  O  sely  Damian,  alas  ! 
Answer  to  this  demand,  as  in  this  cas, 
How  shalt  thou  to  thy  lady  freshe  May 
Tellen  thy  wo  1  She  wol  alway  say  nay ; 
Eke  if  thou  speke,  she  wol  thy  wo  bewreinf 
God  be  thin  help,  I  can  no  better  sein. 

This  sike  Damian  in  Venus  fire 
So  brenneth,  that  he  dieth  for  desire ; 
For  which  he  put  his  lif  in  aventure, 
No  lenger  might  he  in  this  wise  endure, 
But  prively  a  penner  gan  he  borwe, 
And  in  a  lettre  wrote  he  all  his  sorwe, 
In  manere  of  a  complaint  or  a  lay, 
Unto  his  faire  freshe  lady  May. 
And  in  a  purse  of  silk,  heng  on  his  sherte, 
He  hath  it  put,  and  layd  it  at  his  herte. 

The  mone  that  at  none  was  thilke  day 
That  January  hath  wedded  freshe  May 
In  ten  of  Taure,  was  into  Cancer  gliden  ;3 
So  long  hath  Maius  in  hire  chambre  abiden, 

l  Languished.  2  Betray. 

3  The  greatest  number  of  MSS.  read,  two,  tuo,  too,  or  to.  But  the  time 
given  (foure  dayes  complete,  ver.  9767.)  is  not  sufficient  for  the  moon  to 
pass  from  the  second  degree  of  Taurus  into  Cancer.  The  mean  daily 
motion  of  the  moon  being=13°.  10'.  35".  her  motion  in  four  days  is= 
1*.  22°.  42'.  or  not  quite  53  degrees;  so  that,  supposing  her  to  set  out 


87C3-9800.  THE   MARCHANTES   TALE.  267 

As  custome  is  unto  thise  nobles  alle. 
A  bride  shal  not  eten  in  the  halle, 
Til  dayes  four  or  three  dayes  at  the  leste 
Ypassed  ben,  than  let  hire  go  to  feste. 
The  fourthe  day  complete  fro  none  to  none, 
Whan  that  the  highe  messe  was  ydone, 
In  halle  sat  this  January  and  May, 
As  fresh  as  is  the  brighte  somers  day. 
And  so  befel,  how  that  this  goode  man 
Remembred  him  upon  this  Damian, 
And  sayde ;  Seinte  Marie,  how  may  it  be, 
That  Damian  entendeth1  not  to  me  ? 
Is  he  ay  sike  1  or  how  may  this  betide  ? 

His  squiers,  which  that  stoden  ther  beside, 
Excused  him,  because  of  his  siknesse, 
Which  letted2  him  to  don  his  besinesse: 
Non  other  cause  mighte  make  him  tary. 

That  me  forthinketh,  quod  this  January; 
He  is  a  gentil  squier  by  my  trouthe, 
If  that  he  died,  it  were  gret  harme  and  routhe. 
He  is  as  wise,  discret,  and  as  secree, 
As  any  man  I  wote  of  his  degree, 
And  therto  manly  and  eke  servisable, 
And  for  to  ben  a  thrifty  man  right  able. 
But  after  mete  as  sone  as  ever  I  may 
I  wol  myselfe  visite  him,  and  eke  May, 
To  don  him  all  the  comfort  that  I  can. 
And  for  that  word  him  blessed  every  man, 
That  of  his  bountee  and  his  gentillesse 
He  wolde  so  comforten  in  siknesse 
His  squier,  for  it  was  a  gentil  dede. 

Dame,  quod  this  January,  take  good  hede, 
At  after  mete,  ye  with  your  women  alle, 
(Whan  that  ye  ben  in  chambre  out  of  this  halle) 
That  all  ye  gon  to  see  this  Damian: 
Doth  him  disport,  he  is  a  gentil  man, 
And  telleth  him  that  I  wol  him  visite, 
Have  I  no  thing  but  rested  me  a  lite : 

from  the  second  of  Taurus,  she  would  not,  in  that  time,  be  advanced 
beyond  the  25th  degree  of  Gemini.     If  she  set  out  from  the  10th  degree 
of  Taurus,  as  I  have  corrected  the  text,  she  might  properly  enough  be 
•aid,  in  four  days,  to  be  gliden  into  Cancer. — Tyrtchitt. 
'  Attendeth.  -  Hindered. 


268  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  9801-9842. 

And  spede  you  faste,  for  I  wol  .abide 
Till  that  ye  slepen  faste  by  my  side. 
And  with  that  word  he  gan  unto  him  calle 
A  squier,  that  was  marshal  of  his  halle, 
And  told  him  certain  thingeo  that  he  wolde. 

This  freshe  May  hath  streight  hire  way  yholde 
With  all  hire  women  unto  Damian. 
Doun  by  his  beddes  side  sit  she  than, 
Comforting  him  as  goodly  as  she  may. 

This  Damian,  whan  that  his  time  he  say,1 
In  secree  wise,  his  purse,  and  eke  his  bill,2 
In  which  that  he  ywritten  had  his  will, 
Hath  put  into  hire  hond  withouten  more, 
Save  that  he  siked  wonder  depe  and  sore, 
And  softely  to  hire  right  thus  sayd  he ; 
Mercie,  and  that  ye  nat  discover  me : 
For  I  am  ded,  if  that  this  thing  be  kid.3 

This  purse  hath  she  in  with4  hire  bosome  bid, 
And  went  hire  way ;  ye  get  no  more  of  me ; 
But  unto  January  ycome  is  she, 
That  on  his  beddes  side  sate  ful  soft. 
He  taketh  hire,  and  kisseth  hire  ful  oft: 
And  layd  him  doun  to  slepe,  and  that  anon. 
She  feined  hire,  as  that  she  muste  gon 
Ther  as  ye  wote  that  every  wight  mot  nede; 
And  whan  she  of  this  bill  hath  taken  hede, 
She  rent  it  all  to  cloutes  at  the  last, 
And  in  the  privee  softely  it  cast.' 

Who  studieth  now  but  faire  freshe  May? 
Adoun  by  olde  January  she  lay, 
That  slepte,  til  the  cough  hath  him  awaked : 
Anon  he  prayd  hire  stripen  hire  al  naked, 
He  wolde  of  hire,  he  said,  have  som  plesance 
And  said,  hire  clothes  did  him  encombrance. 
And  she  obeieth  him,  be  hire  lefe  or  loth. 
But  lest  that  precious  folk  be  with  me  wroth, 
How  that  he  wrought,  I  dare  nat  to  you  tell, 
Or  wheder  hire  thought  it  paradis  or  hell ;  ■ 
But  ther  I  let  hem  werken  in  hir  wise 
Til  evesong  rang,  and  that  they  must  arise. 

Were  it  by  destinee,  or  aventure, 
Were  it  by  influence,  or  by  nature, 

»  Saw.  2  Billet,  writing, 

3  Made  known.  *  Within. 


9843-9884.  THE   MARCI1ANTES   TALE.  2C9 

Or  constellation,  that  in  swiche  estat 
The  heven  stood  at  that  time  fortunat, 
As  for  to  put  a  bill  of  Venus  werkes 
'(For  alle  thing  hath  time,  as  sayn  thise  clerkes) 
To  any  woman  for  to  get  hire  love, 
I  cannot  say,  but  grete  God.  above, 
That  knoweth  that  non  act  is  causeles, 
He  deme  of  all,  for  I  wol  hold  my  pees. 
But  soth  is  this,  how  that  this  freshe  May 
Hath  taken  swiche  impression  that  day 
Of  pitee  on  this  sike  Damian, 
That  fro  hire  herte  she  ne  driven  can 
The  remembrance  for  to  don  him  ese. 
Certain  (thought  she)  whom  that  this  thing  displese 
I  rekke  not,  for  here  I  him  assure, 
To  love  him  best  of  any  creature, 
Though  he  no  more  hadde  than  his  sherte. 

Lo,  pitee  renneth  sone  in  gentil  herte. 
Here  may  ye  seen,  how  excellent  franchise1 
In  women  is  whan  they  hem  narwe  avise. 
Som  tyraunt  is,  as  ther  ben  many  on, 
That  hath  an  herte  as  hard  as  any  ston, 
Which  wold  han  lette  him  sterven-  in  the  place 
Wei  rather  than  han  granted  him  hire  grace : 
And  hem  rejoycen  in  hir  cruel  pride,  . 
And  rekken  not  to  ben  an  homicide. 

This  gentil  May,  fulfilled  of  pitee, 
Eight  of  hire  hond  a  lettre  maketh  she, 
In  which  she  granteth  him  hire  veray  grace ; 
Ther  lacked  nought,  but  only  day  and  place, 
Wher  that  she  might  unto  his  lust  suffice : 
For  it  shal  be,  right  as  he  wol  devise. 

And  whan  she  saw  hire  time  upon  a  day 
To  visiten  this  Damian  goth  this  May, 
And  sotilly  this  lettre  doun  she  threst 
Under  his  pilwe,  rede  it  if  him  lest. 
She  taketh  him  by  the  hond,  and  hard  him  twist' 
So  secretly,  that  no  wight  of  it  wist, 
And  bade  him  ben  all  hoi,4  and  forth  she  went 
To  January,  whan  he  for  hire  sent. 

Up  riseth  Damian  the  nexte  morwe, 
Al  passed  was  his  siknesse  and  his  sorwe. 

1  Frankness.  s  Die. 

•  Pressed,  squeezed.  *  Well,  sound. 

23* 


270  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  9885-9926. 

He  kembeth  him,  lie  proineth  him  and  piketh,1 
He  doth  all  that  his  lady  lust  and  liketh ; 
And  eke  to  January  he  goth  as  lowe, 
As  ever  did  a  dogge  for  the  bowe. 
He  is  so  plesant  unto  every  man, 
(Tor  craft  is  all,  who  so  that  don  it  can) 
That  every  wight  is  ain  to  speke  him  good; 
And  fully  in  his  ladies  grace  he  stood. 

Thus  let  I  Damian  about  his  nede, 
And  in  my  tale  forth  I  wol  procede. 

Som  clerkes  holden  that  felicitee 
Stant  in  delit,  and  therfore  certain  he 
This  noble  January,  with  all  his  might 
In  honest  wise  as  longeth  to  a  knight, 
Shope  him  to  liven  ful  deliciously. 
His  housing,  his  array,  as  honestly 
To  his  degree  was  maked  as  a  kinges. 
Amonges  other  of  his  honest  thinges 
He  had  a  gardin  walled  all  with  ston, 
So  fayre  a  gardin  wote  I  no  wher  non. 
For  out  of  doute  I  veraily  suppose, 
That  he  that  wrote  the  Romant  of  the  Rose, 
Ne  coude  of  it  the  beautee  wel  devise : 
Ne  Priapus  ne  mighte  not  suffise, 
Though  he  be  god  of  gardins,  for  to  tell 
The  beautee  of  the  gardin,  and  the  well, 
That  stood  under  a  laurer  alway  grene. 
Ful  often  time  he  Pluto  and  his  quene 
Proserpina,  and  alle  hir  faerie, 
Disporten  hem  and  maken  melodie 
About  that  well,  and  daunced,  as  men  told. 

This  noble  knight,  this  January  the  old 
Swiche  deintee  hath  in  it  to  walke  and  pley, 
That  he  wol  suffre  no  wight  bere  the  key, 
Sauf  he  himself,  for  of  the  smal  wiket 
He  bare  alway  of  silver  a  cliket,2 
With  which  whan  that  him  list  he  it  unshette. 
And  whan  that  he  wold  pay  his  wives  dette 
In  somer  seson  thider  wold  he  go, 
And  May  his  wif,  and  no  wight  but  they  two  ; 
And  thinges  which  that  were  not  don  a-bedde, 
He  in  the  gardin  parfourmed  hem  and  spedde. 

'  Pruneth  and  picketh,  a  metaphor  taken  from  birds.  *  Kef. 


9927-9070  THE  MABCHANTES  TALE.  271 

And  in  this  wise  many  a  mery  day 
Lived  this  January  and  freshe  May, 
But  worldly  joye  may  not  alway  endure 
To  January,  ne  to  no  creature. 

O  soden  hap,  o  thou  fortune  unstable, 
Like  to  the  Scorpion  so  deceivable, 
That  flatrest  with  thy  hed  whan  thou  wolt  sting ; 
Thy  tayl  is  deth,  thurgh  thin  enveniming. 
O  brotel  joye,  o  swete  poyson  queinte, 
O  monstre,  that  so  sotilly  canst  peinto 
Thy  giftes,  under  hewe  of  stedfastnesse, 
That  thou  deceivest  bothe  more  and  lesse, 
Why  hast  thou  January  thus  deceived, 
That  haddest  him  for  thy  ful  frend  received  1 
And  now  thou  hast  beraft  him  both  his  eyen, 
For  sorwe  of  which  desireth  he  to  dyen. 

Alas !  this  noble  January  free, 
Amidde  his  lust  and  his  prosperitee 
Is  waxen  blind,  and  that  ai  sodenly. 
He  wepeth  and  he  waileth  pitously ; 
And  therwithall,  the  fire  of  jalousie 
(Lest  that  his  wif  shuld  fall  in  som  folie) 
So  brent  his  herte,  that  he  wolde  fain, 
That  som  man  had  both  him  and  hire  yslain; 
For  nother  after  his  deth,  ne  in  his  lif, 
Ne  wold  he  that  she  were  no  love  ne  wif, 
But  ever  live  as  a  widewe  in  clothes  blake, 
Sole  as  the  turtle  that  hath  lost  hire  make. 
But  at  the  last,  after  a  moneth  or  tway 
His  sorwe  gan  asswagen,  soth  to  say. 
For  whan  he  wist  it  might  non  other  be^ 
He  patiently  toke  his  adversitee : 
Save  out  of  doute  he  ne  may  nat  forgon, 
That  he  n'as  jalous  ever  more  in  on: 
Which  jalousie  it  was  so  outrageous, 
That  neither  in  halle,  ne  in  non  other  hous, 
Ne  in  non  other  place  never  the  mo 
He  n'olde  sufFre  hire  for  to  ride  or  go, 
But  if  that  he  had  honde  on  hire  alway. 
For  which  ful  often  wepeth  freshe  May, 
That  loveth  Damian  so  brenningly, 
That  she  moste  either  dien  sodenly, 
Or  elles  she  moste  han  him  as  hire  lest : 
She  waited  whan  hire  herte  wold  to-brest.1 
>  Burst. 


272  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  9971-10012. 

Upon  that  other  side  Damian 
Becomen  is  the  sowefullest  man 
That  ever  was,  for  neither  night  ne  day 
Ne  might  he  speke  a  word  to  freshe  May, 
As  to  his  pnrpos  of  no  swiche  matere, 
But  if  that  January  must  it  here, 
That  had  an  hand  upon  hire  evermo. 
But  natheles,  hy  writing  to  and  fro, 
And  privee  signes,  wist  he  what  she  ment, 
And  she  knew  eke  the  fin1  of  his  entent. 

O  January,  what  might  it  thee  availe, 
Though  thou  might  seen,  as  fer  as  shippes  saile  1 
For  as  good  is  blind  to  deceived  be, 
As  be  deceived,  whan  a  man  may  see. 
Lo  Argus,  which  that  had  an  hundred  eyen, 
For  all  that  ever  he  coude  pore  or  prien, 
Yet  was  he  blent,2  and,  God  wot,  so  ben  mo, 
That  wenen  wisly  that  it  be  not  so : 
Passe  over  is  an  ese,  I  say  no  more. 

This  freshe  May,  of  which  I  spake  of  yore, 
In  warm  wex  hath  enprented  the  cliket^. 
That  January  bare  of  the  smal  wiket, 
By  which  into  his  gardin  oft  he  went ; 
And  Damian  that  knew  all  hire  entent 
The  cliket  contrefeted  prively ; 
Ther  n'is  no  more  to  say,  but  hastily 
Som  wonder  by  this  cliket  shal  betide, 
Which  ye  shul  heren,  if  ye  wol  abide. 

O  noble  Ovide,  soth  sayest  thou,  God  wote, 
What  sleight  is  it  if  love  be  long  and  hote, 
That  heji'ill  find  it  out  in  som  manere? 
By  Pyramus  and  Thisbe  may  men  lere  ; 
Though  they  were  kept  ful  long  and  streit  over  all, 
They  ben  accorde  1,  rowning3  thurgh  a  wall, 
Ther  no  wight  coude  han  founden  swiche  a  sleighte. 
But  now  to  purpos ;  er  that  daies  eighte 
Were  passed  of  the  month  of  Juil,  befill, 
That  January  hath  caught  so  gret  a  will, 
Thurgh  egging  of  his  wif,  him  for  to  play 
In  his  gardin,  and  no  wight  but  they  tway, 
That  in  a  morwe  unto  this  May  said  he ; 
Bise  up,  my  wif,  my  love,  my  lady  free ; 

'End.  '  Blinded,  deceived.  *  Whispering. 


10013-10054.         THE  MARCHANTES  TALE.  273 

The  turtles  vois  is  herd,  myn  owen  swete ; 
The  winter  is  gon,  with  all  his  raines  wete. 
Come  forth  now  with  thin  eyen  columbine. 
Wei  fairer  ben  thy  brests  than  ony  wine. 
The  gardin  is  enclosed  all  aboute; 
Come  forth,  my  white  spouse,  for  out  of  doute, 
Thou  hast  me  wounded  in  myn  herte,  o  wif ; 
No  spot  in  thee  n'as  never  in  all  thy  lif. 
Come  forth,  and  let  us  taken  our  disport^ 
I  chese  thee  for  my  wif  and  my  comfort. 

Swiche  olde  lewed  wordes  used  he. 
On  Damian  a  signe  made  she, 
That  he  shuld  go  before  with  his  clikct. 
This  Damian  hath  opened  the  wiket, 
And  in  he  stert,  and  that  in  swiche  manere, 
That  no  wight  might  him  see  neyther  yhere, 
And  still  he  sit  under  a  bush.    Anon 
This  January,  as  blind  as  is  a  ston, 
With  Maius  in  his  hand,  and  no  wight  mo, 
Into  this  freshe  gardin  is  ago, 
And  clapped  to  the  wiket  sodenly. 

Now,  wif,  quod  he,  here  n'is  but  thou,  and  I, 
That  art  the  creature  that  I  best  love: 
For  by  that  lord  that  sit  in  heven  above, 
I  hadde  lever  dien  on  a  knif, 
Than  thee  offenden,  dere  trewe  wif. 
For  Goddes  sake,  thinke  how  I  thee  chees, 
Not  for  no  covetise  douteles, 
But  only  for  the  love  I  had  to  thee 
And  though  that  I  be  old  and  may  not  see, 
Beth  to  me  trewe,  and  I  wol  tell  you  why; 
Certes  three  thinges  shal  ye  win  therby ; 
First  love  of  Crist,  and  to  yourself  honour, 
And  all  min  heritage,  toun  and  tour. 
I  yeve  it  you,  maketh  chartres  as  you  lest: 
This  shal  be  don  to-morwe  er  sonne  rest, 
So  wisly  God  my  soule  bring  to  blisse ; 
I  pray  you  on  this  covenant  ye  me  kisse. 
And  though  that  I  be  jalous,  wite  me  nought;1 
Ye  ben  so  depe  enprented  in  my  thought, 
That  whan  that  I  consider  your  beautee, 
And  therwithall  the  unlikely  elde  of  me, 

1  Think  nothing  of  it. 


274  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  10055-10096. 

I  may  not  certes,  though  I  shulde  die, 
Forbere  to  ben  out  of  your  compagnie 
For  veray  love ;  this  is  withouten  doute : 
Now  kisse  me,  wif,  and  let  us  rome  aboute. 

This  freshe  May,  whan  she  thise  wordes  herd 
Benignely  to  January  answerd, 
But  first  and  forward  she  began  to  wepe; 
I  have,  quod  she,  a  soule  for  to  kepe 
As  wel  as  ye,  and  also  min  honour, 
And  of  my  wifhood  thilke  tendre  flour, 
Which  that  I  have  assured  in  your  bond, 
Whan  that  the  preest  to  you  my  body  bond: 
Wh  erf  ore  I  wol  answere  in  this  manere, 
With  leve  of  you,  myn  owen  lord  so  dere. 

I  pray  to  God  that  never  daw  that  day, 
That  I  ne  sterve,  as  foule  as  woman  may, 
If  ever  I  do  unto  my  kin  that  shame. 
Or  elles  I  empeire1  so  my  name, 
That  I  be  false ;  and  if  I  do  that  lakke,9 
Do  stripen  me  and  put  me  in  a  sakke, 
And  in  the  nexte  river  do  me  drencher 
I  am  a  gentil  woman,  and  no  wenche. 
Why  speke  ye  thus?  but  men  ben  ever  untrewe,' 
And  women  han  reprefe  of  you  ay  newe. 
Ye  con  non  other  daliance,  I  leve, 
But  speke  to  us  as  of  untrust  and  repreve. 

And  with  that  word  she  saw  wher  Damian 
Sat  in  the  bush,  and  coughen  she  began; 
And  with  hire  finger  a  signe  made  she, 
That  Damian  shuld  climbe  up  on  a  tre, 
That  charged  was  with  fruit,  and  up  he  went: 
For  veraily  he  knew  all  tere  entent, 
And  every  signe  that  she  coude  make, 
Wel  bet  than  January  hire  owen  make. 
For  in  a  lettre  she  had  told  him  all 
Of  this  matere,  how  that  he  werken  shall. 
And  thus  I  let  him  sitting  in  the  pery,3 
And  January  and  May  roming  ful  mery. 

Bright  was  the  day,  and  blew  the  firmament; 
Phebus  of  gold  his  stremes  doun  hath  sent 
To  gladen  every  flour  with  his  warmnesse; 
He  was  that  time  in  Geminis,  I  gesse, 

l  Impair.  s  Fault,  sin.  *  Fear. 


10007-10138.  THE   MARCHANTES  TALK.  275 

But  litel  fro  his  declination 
Of  Cancer,  Joves  exaltation. 
And  so  befell  in  that  bright  morwe  tide, 
That  in  the  gardin,  on  the  ferther  side, 
Pluto,  that  is  the  king  oi  Faerie, 
And  many  a  ladie  in  his  compagnie 
Folwing  his  wif,  the  quene  Proserpina, 
Which  that  he  ravisshed  out  of  Ethna, 
While  that  she  gadred  floures  in  the  mede,* 
(In  Claudian  ye  may  the  story  rede, 
How  that  hire  in  his  grisely  carte  he  fette) 
This  king  of  Faerie  adoun  him  sette 
Upon  a  benche  of  turves  freshe  and  grene, 
And  right  anon  thus  said  he  to  his  quene. 

My  wif,  quod  he,  ther  may  no  wight  say  nay, 
The  experience  so  preveth  it  every  day, 
The  treson  which  that  woman  doth  to  man. 
Ten  hundred  thousand  stories  tell  I  can 
Notable  of  your  untrouth  and  brotelnesse.3 

O  Salomon,  richest  of  all  richesse. 
Fulfilled  of  sapience,  and  worldly  glorie, 
Ful  worthy  ben  thy  wordes  to  memorie 
To  every  wight,  that  wit  and  reson  can. 
Thus  praiseth  he  the  bountee  yet  of  man; 
Among  a  thousand  men  yet  fond  I  on, 
But  of  all  women  fond  I  never  non. 
Thus  saith  this  king,  that  knewe  your  wikkednesse; 
And  Jesus,  Filius  Sirach,  as  I  gesse, 
He  speketh  of  you  but  selden  reverence. 
A  wilde  fire,  a  corrupt  pestilence, 
So  fall  upon  your  bodies  yet  to-night: 
Ne  see  ye  not  this  honourable  knight? 
Because,  alas!  that  he  is  blind  and  old, 
His  owen  man  shal  make  him  coke  wold. 
Lo,  wher  he  sit,  the  lechour,  in  the  tree. 
Now  wol  I  graunten  of  my  majestee 
Unto  this  olde  blinde  worthy  knight, 
That  he  shal  have  again  his  eyen  sight, 
Whan  that  his  wif  wol  don  him  vilanie; 
Than  shal  he  knowen  all  hire  harlotrie, 
Both  in  repref  e3  of  hire  and  other  mo. 

Ye,  sire,  quod  Proserpine,  and  wol  ye  so? 

1  I.e.,  in  the  field  of  Enna.  »  Brittleness.  8  Reproof. 


276  THE   CANTERBURY   TALES.  10139-10180. 

Now  by  my  modre  Ceres  soule  I  swere, 

That  I  shal  yeve  hire  suffisant  answers, 

And  alle  women  after  for  hire  sake; 

That  though  they  ben  in  any  gilt  ytake, 

With  face  bold  they  shul  hemselve  excuse, 

And  bere  hem  doun  that  wolden  hem  accuse. 

For  lacke  of  answere,  non  oi  us  shul  dien. 

Al  had  ye  seen  a  thing  with  bothe  youre  eyen, 

Yet  shul  we  so  visage1  it  hardely, 

And  wepe  and  swere  and  chiden  subtilly, 

That  ye  shul  ben  as  lewed2  as  ben  gees. 

What  rekketh  me  of  your  auctoriteesf 
I  wote  wel  that  this  Jewe,  this  Salomon, 
Fond  of  us  women  fooles  many  on: 
But  though  that  he  ne  fond  no  good  woman, 
Ther  hath  yfonden  many  an  other  man 
Women  ful  good,  and  trewe,  and  vertuous ; 
Witnesse  on  hem  that  dwelte  in  Cristes  hous, 
With  martyrdom  they  preved  hir  Constance. 
The  Eomain  gestes  maken  remembrance 
Of  many  a  veray  trewe  wif  also. 
But,  sire,  ne  be  not  wroth,  al  be  it  so, 
Though  that  he  said  he  fond  no  good  woman, 
I  pray  you  take  the  sentence  of  the  man : 
He  ment  thus,  That  in  soveraine  bountee3 
N'is  non  but  God,  no,  nouther  be  ne  she. 

Ey,  for  the  veray  God  that  n'is  but  on, 
What  maken  ye  so  moche  of  Salomon? 
What  though  he  made  a  temple,  Goddes  hous? 
What  though  he  riche  were  and  glorious? 
So  made  he  eke  a  temple  ot  false  goddes, 
How  might  he  don  a  thing  that  more  forbode  is? 
Parde  as  faire  as  ye  his  name  emplastre, 
He  was  a  lechour,  and  an  idolastre, 
And  in  his  elde  he  veray  God  forsoke. 
And  if  that  God  ne  hadde  (as  saith  the  boke) 
Spared  him  for  his  fathers  sake,  he  sholde 
Han  lost  his  regne  rather  than  he  wolde. 

I  sete  nat  of  all  the  vilanie, 
That  he  of  women  wrote,  a  boterflie. 
I  am  a  woman,  nedes  moste  I  speke, 
Or  swell  unto  that  time  min  herte  breke. 

1  Face,  brazen  it  out.  s  Simple,  ignorant.  s  Goodness. 


10181-10222.         THE  MARCHANTES  TALE.  277 

For  sin  he  said  that  we  ben  jangleresses, 
As  ever  mote  I  brouken  hole  my  tresses, 
I  shal  nat  sparen  for  no  curtesie 
To  speke  him  harm,  that  sayth  us  vilanie. 

Dame,  quod  this  Pluto,  be  no  lenger  wroth, 
I  yeve  it  up:  but  sin  I  swore  min  oth, 
That  I  wold  graunten  him  his  sight  again, 
My  word  shal  stand,  that  warne  I  you  certain: 
I  am  a  king,  it  sit  me  not  to  lie. 
And  I,  quod  she,  am  quene  ol  Faerie. 
Hire  answere  she  shal  han  I  undertake, 
Let  us  no  more  wox-des  of  it  make. 
Forsoth,  quod  he,  I  wol  you  not  contrary. 

Now  let  us  turne  again  to  January, 
That  in  the  gardin  with  his  faire  May 
Singeth  wel  merier  than  the  popingay: 
"  You  love  I  best,  and  shal,  and  other  non."1 

So  long  about  the  alleyes  is  he  gon, 
Til  he  was  comen  again  to  thilke  peiy, 
"Wher  as  this  Damian  sitteth  ful  mery 
On  high,  among  the  freshe  leves  grene. 

This  freshe  May,  that  is  so  bright  and  shene, 
Gan  for  to  Bike,  and  said ;  alas  my  side ! 
Now,  sire,  quod  she,  for  ought  that  may  betide 
I  moste  have  of  the  peres  that  I  see, 
Or  I  moste  die,  so  sore  longeth  me 
To  eten  of  the  smale  peres  grene: 
Help  for  hire  love  that  is  of  heven  quene. 
I  tell  you  wel  a  woman  in  my  plit 
May  have  to  fruit  so  gret  an  appetit, 
That  she  may  dien,  but  she  of  it  have. 

Alas!  quod  he,  that  I  n'adde  here  a  knave, 
That  coude  climbe,  alas !  alas !  (quod  he) 
For  I  am  blinde.    Ye,  sire,  no  force,  quod  she; 
But  wold  ye  vouchesauf  for  Goddes  sake, 
The  pery  in  with  your  armes  for  to  take, 
(For  wel  I  wot  that  ye  mistrusten  me) 
Than  wold  I  climben  wel  ynough,  (quod  she) 
So  I  my  fote  might  setten  on  your  back. 

Certes,  said  he,  therin  shal  be  no  lack, 
Might  I  you  helpen  with  min  herte  blood. 

He  stoupeth  doun,  and  on  his  back  she  stood, 

i  This  seems  like  a  quotation  from  some  popular  ballad  of  the  time. 
24 


278  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  10223-10266. 

And  caught  hire  by  a  twist,  and  up  she  goth. 

(Ladies,  I  pray  you  that  ye  be  not  wroth, 

I  can  nat  glose,  I  am  a  rude  man .) 

And  sodenly  anon  this  Damian 

Gan  pullen  up  the  smock,  and  in  he  throng. 

And  whan  that  Pluto  saw  this  grete  wrong, 
To  January  he  yaf  again  his  sight, 
And  made  him  see  as  wel  as  ever  he  might. 
And  whan  he  thus  had  caught  his  sight  again, 
Ne  was  ther  never  man  01  thing  so  fain: 
But  on  his  wii  his  thought  was  ever  mo. 

Up  to  the  tree  he  cast  his  eyen  two, 
And  saw  how  Damian  his  wife  had  dressed 
In  swiche  manere,  it  may  not  ben  expressed, 
But  if  I  wolde  speke  uncurteisly. 
And  up  he  yaf  a  roring  and  a  cry, 
As  doth  the  mother  whan  the  child  shal  die  j 
Out !  helpe  !  alas !  harow !  he  gan  to  cry; 

0  stronge  lady  store,  what  doest  thou  ? 
And  she  answered:  sire,  what  aileth  you ? 

Have  patience  and  reson  in  your  minde, 

1  have  you  holpen  on  both  your  eyen  blinde. 
Up  peril  of  my  soule,  I  shal  nat  lien, 

As  me  was  taught  to  helpen  with  your  eyen, 
"Was  nothing  better  for  to  make  you  see, 
Than  strogle  with  a  man  upon  a  tree: 
God  wot,  I  did  it  in  ful  good  entent. 

Strogle  !  quod  he,  ye,  algate  in  it  went. 
God  yeve  you  both  on  shames  deth  to  dien ! 
He  swived  thee ;  I  saw  it  with  min  eyen; 
And  elles  be  I  honged  by  the  halse. 

Than  is,  quod  she,  my  medicine  al  false. 
For  certainly,  if  that  ye  mighten  see, 
Ye  wold  not  say  thise  wordes  unto  me. 
Ye  have  som  glimsing,  and  no  parfit  sight. 

I  see,  quod  he,  as  wel  as  ever  I  might, 
(Thanked  be  God)  with  both  min  eyen  two, 
And  by  my  feith  me  thought  he  did  thee  so. 

Ye  mase,  ye  masen,  goode  sire,  quod  she ; 
This  thank  have  I  for  I  have  made  you  see: 
Alas !  quod  she,  that  ever  I  was  so  kind. 

Now,  dame,  quod  he,  let  al  passe  out  of  mind: 
Come  doun,  my  lefe,  and  if  I  have  missaid, 
God  helpe  me  so,  as  I  am  evil  apaid. 


10267-10292.         THE  MARCH  ANTES  TALE.  279 

But  by  my  fadres  soule,  I  wende  have  sein, 
How  that  this  Damian  had  by  thee  lein, 
And  that  thy  smock  had  lein  upon  his  brest. 

Ye,  sire,  quod  she,  ye  may  wene  as  you  lest: 
But,  sire,  a  man  that  waketh  of  his  slepe, 
He  may  not  sodenly  wel  taken  kepe 
Upon  a  thing,  ne  seen  it  parfitly, 
Til  that  he  be  adawed  veraily.1 
Bight  so  a  man,  that  long  hath  blind  ybe, 
He  may  not  sodenly  so  wel  ysee, 
First  whan  his  sight  is  newe  comen  agein, 
As  he  that  hath  a  day  or  two  ysein. 
Til  that  your  sight  ysateled3  be  a  while, 
Ther  may  ful  many  a  sighte  you  begile. 
Beware,  I  pray  you,  for  by  heven  King 
Ful  many  a  man  weneth3  to  see  a  thing, 
And  it  is  all  another  than  it  semeth : 
He  which  that  misconceiveth  oft  misdemeth. 

And  with  that  word  she  lep  doun  fro  the  tree. 
This  January  who  is  glad  but  he  ? 
He  kisseth  hire,  and  clippeth  hire  ful  oft, 
And  on  hire  wombe  he  stroketh  hire  ful  soft; 
And  to  his  paleis  home  he  hath  hire  lad. 
Now,  goode  men,  I  pray  you  to  be  glad. 

Thus  endeth  here  my  tale  of  Januarie, 
God  blesse  us,  and  his  moder  Seinte  Marie. 

1  Thoroughly  awakened.  8  Settled,  established.  *  Xuinketh. 


280 
THE  SQTJIERES  PROLOGUE. 

10293-10322. 

Bt  Goddes  mercy,  sayde  oure  Hoste  tho, 
Now  swiche  a  wif  I  preie  God  kepe  me  fro, 
Lo,  swiche  sleiglites  and  subtilitees 
In  women  ben ;  for  ay  as  besy  as  bees 
Ben  they  us  sely  men  for  to  deceive, 
And  from  a  sothe1  wol  they  ever  weive.8 
By  this  Marchantes  tale  it  preveth  wel. 
But  natheles,  as  trewe  as  any  stele, 
I  have  a  wif,  though  that  she  poure  be ; 
But  of  hire  tonge  a  labbing3  shrewe  is  she ; 
And  yet  she  hath  an  hepe  of  vices  mo. 
Therof  no  force ;  let  all  swiche  thinges  go. 
But  wete  ye  what  ?  in  conseil  be  it  seyde, 
Me  reweth  sore  I  am  unto  hire  teyde ; 
For  and  I  shulde  rekene  every  vice, 
"Which  that  she  hath,  ywis  I  were  to  nice; 
And  cause  why,  it  shulde  reported  be 
And  told  to  hire  of  som  of  this  compagnie, 
(Of  whom  it  nedeth  not  for  to  declare, 
Sin  women  connen  utter  swiche  chafiare) 
And  eke  my  wit  sufficeth  not  therto 
To  tellen  all ;  wherfore  my  tale  is  do. 

Squier,  come  ner,  if  it  youre  wille  be, 
And  say  somwhat  of  love,  for  certes  ye 
Connen  theron  as  moche  as  any  man. 
Nay,  sire,  quod  he,  but  swiche  thing  as  I  can 
With  hertly  wille,  for  I  wol  not  rebelle 
Agein  youre  lust,  a  tale  wol  I  telle. 
Have  me  excused  if  I  speke  amis ; 
My  wille  is  good;  and  lo,  my  tale  is  this. 

1  Truth.  '  Depart.  *  Blabbing. 


281 

%\t  Suvittti  fait 

10323-10354. 

At  Sarra,  in  the  lond  of  Tartarie, 

Ther  dwelt  a  king  that  werreied1  Russie, 

Thurgh  which  ther  died  many  a  doughty  roan. 

This  noble  king  was  cleped  Cambuscan, 

Which  in  his  time  was  of  so  gret  renoun, 

That  ther  n'as  no  wher  in  no  regioun, 

So  excellent  a  lord  in  alle  thing: 

Him  lacked  nought  that  longeth  to  a  king, 

As  of  the  secte  of  which  that  he  was  borne. 

He  kept  his  lay  to  which  he  was  ysworne, 

And  therto  he  was  hardy,  wise,  and  riche, 

And  pitous  and  just,  and  alway  yliche  ;a 

Trewe  of  his  word,  benigne  and  honourable : 

Of  his  corage  as  any  centre  stable ; 

Yong,  fresh,  and  strong,  in  armes  desirous, 

As  any  bacheler  of  all  his  hous. 

A  faire  person  he  was,  and  fortunate, 

And  kept  alway  so  wel  real3  estat, 

That  ther  n'as  no  wher  swiche  another  man. 

This  noble  king,  this  Tartre  Cambuscan, 
Hadde  two  sones  by  Elfeta  his  wif, 
Of  which  the  eldest  sone  highte  Algarsif, 
That  other  was  ycleped  Camballo. 

A  doughter  had  this  worthy  king  also, 
That  yongest  was,  and  highte  Canace: 
But  for  to  tellen  you  all  hire  beautee, 
It  lith  not  in  my  tonge,  ne  in  my  conning, 
I  dare  not  undertake  so  high  a  thing: 
Min  English  eke  is  unsufficient, 
It  muste  ben  a  Eethor 4  excellent, 
That  coude  his  colours  longing  for5  that  art, 
If  he  shuld  hire  descriven  ony  part: 

>  Warred  against.  2  Alike.  »  Royal. 

*  A  rhetorician,  orator.         *  That  would  know  the  colours  belonging  to. 
24* 


282  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  10355-10392. 

I  am  not  swiche,  I  mote  speke  as  I  can. 

And  so  befell,  that  whan  this  Cambuscan     * 
Hath  twenty  winter  borne  his  diademe, 
As  he  was  wont  fro  yere  to  yere  I  deme, 
He  let  the  teste  of  his  nativitee 
Don  crien,  thurghout  Sarra  his  citee, 
The  last  Idus  of  March,  after  the  yere. 

Phebus  the  sonne  ful  jolif  was  and  clere, 
For  he  was  nigh  his  exaltation1 
In  Martes  face,  and  in  his  mansion 
In  Aries,  the  colerike  hote  signe: 
Ful  lusty  was  the  wether  and  benigne, 
For  which  the  f  oules2  again  the  sonne  shene, 
What  for  the  seson  and  the  yonge  grene, 
Ful  loude  songen  hir  affections: 
Hem  semed  han  getten  hem  protections 
Again  the  swerd  of  winter  kene  and  cold. 

This  Cambuscan,  of  which  I  have  you  told, 
In  real3  vestiments,  sit  on  his  deis 
With  diademe,  ful  high  in  his  paleis ; 
And  holt  his  teste  so  solempne  and  so  riche, 
That  in  this  world  ne  was  ther  non  it  liche.4 
Of  which  if  I  shal  tellen  all  the  array, 
Than  wold  it  occupie  a  somers  day ; 
And  eke  it  nedeth  not  for  to  devise 
At  every  cours  the  order  of  hir  service. 
I  wol  not  tellen  of  hir  strange  sewes,5 
Ne  of  hir  swannes,  ne  hir  heronsewes.' 
Eke  in  that  lond,  as  tellen  knightes  old, 
Ther  is  som  mete  that  is  ful  deintee  hold,7 
That  in  this  lond  men  recche  of  it  ful  smal : 
Ther  n'is  no  man  that  may  reporten  al. 
I  wol  not  tarien  you,  for  it  is  prime, 
And  for  it  is  no  fruit,  but  losse  of  time, 
Unto  my  purpose  I  wol  have  recours. 

And  so  befell  that  after  the  thridde  cours 
While  that  this  king  sit  thus  in  his  nobley, 
Herking8  his  ministralles  hir  thinges  pley 

1 1,  e ,  his  highest  influence.  2  The  bird?, «'.  e.,  their  plumage. 

s  Royal.  4  Like. 

5  Dishes.    A  sewer  was  an  officer  so  called  from  his  placing  the  dishe 
upon  the  table.     Aueour,  Fr.  from  asseoir,  to  place. — Tyrvohitt. 

6  Young  herons,  herongeaiuc. 

Accounted.  8  Listening  to. 


10393-10428.  THE  SQUIERES  TALE.  283 

Beforne  him  at  his  bord  deliciously 

In  at  the  halle  dore  al  sodenly 

Ther  came  a  knight  upon  a  stede  of  bras, 

And  in  his  hond  a  brod  mirrour  of  glas ; 

Upon  his  thombe  he  had  of  gold  a  ring, 

And  by  his  side  a  naked  swerd  hanging: 

And  up  he  rideth  to  the  highe  bord. 

In  all  the  halle  ne  was  ther  spoke  a  word, 

For  mervaille  of  this  knight ;  him  to  behold 

Ful  besily  they  waiten  yong  and  old. 

This  strange  knight  that  come  thus  sodenly 
Al  armed  save  his  hed  ful  richely, 
Salueth  king  and  quene,  and  lordes  alle 
By  order,  as  they  saten  in  the  halle, 
With  so  high  reverence  and  observanco, 
As  wel  in  speche  as  in  his  contenance, 
That  Gawain1  with  his  olde  curtesie, 
Though  he  were  come  agen  out  of  faerie, 
Ne  coude  him  not  amenden  with  a  word. 
And  after  this,  betorn  the  highe  bord 
He  with  a  manly  vois  sayd  his  message, 
After  the  forme  used  in  his  langage, 
Withouten  vice  of  sillable  or  of  letter. 
And  for  his  tale  shulde  seme  the  better, 
Accordant  to  his  wordes  was  his  chere,3 
As  techeth  art  ol  speche  hem  that  it  lere,* 
Al  be  it  that  I  cannot  soune  his  stile, 
Ne  cannot  climben  over  so  high  a  stile, 
Yet  say  I  this,  as  to  comun  entent, 
Thus  much  amounteth  all  that  ever  he  ment, 
If  it  so  be  that  I  have  it  in  mind. 

He  sayd ;  The  king  of  Arabie  and  of  Inde, 
My  liege  lord,  on  this  solempne  day 
Salueth  you  as  he  best  can  and  may, 
And  sendeth  you  in  honour  of  your  festo 
By  me,  that  am  al  redy  at  your  heste, 

1  Nephew  to  King  Arthur,  by  his  sister  married  to  King  Lot  So  says 
the  British  History,  which  goes  under  the  name  of  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  ; 
and  I  believe  it  will  be  in  vain  to  look  for  any  more  authentic  genealogist 
of  all  that  family.  He  is  there  called  tVatganut.  The  French  romancers, 
who  have  built  upon  Geoffrey's  foundations,  agree  in  describing  Gawain 
as  a  model  of  knightly  courtesy.  To  this  his  established  character  our 
author  alludes.— TyrwhiU. 

-  Manner.  8  Learn. 


284  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  10429-104,68. 

This  stede  of  bras,  that  esily  and  wel 

Can  in  the  space  of  a  day  naturel, 

(This  is  to  sayn,  in  four  and  twenty  houres) 

Wher  so  you  list,  in  drought  or  elles  shoures.1 

Beren  your  body  into  every  place, 

To  which  your  herte  willeth  for  to  pace, 

Withouten  wemme2  of  you,  thurgh  foule  or  faire. 

Or  if  you  list  to  fleen  as  high  in  the  aire, 

As  doth  an  egle,  whan  him  list  to  sore, 

This  same  stede  shal  bere  you  evermore 

Withouten  harme,  til  ye  be  ther  you  lest, 

(Though  that  ye  slepen  on  his  back  or  rest) 

And  turne  again,  with  writhing  of  a  pin. 

He  that  it  wrought,  he  coude  many  a  gin  f 

He  waited  many  a  constellation, 

Or  he  had  don  this  operation, 

And  knew  ful  many  a  sele4  and  many  a  bond. 

This  mirrour  eke,  that  I  have  in  min  hond, 
Hath  swiche  a  might,  that  men  may  in  it  see, 
Whan  ther  shal  falle  ony  adversitee 
Unto  your  regne,  or  to  yourself  also, 
And  openly,  who  is  your  frend  or  fo. 
And  over  all  this,  if  any  lady  bright 
Hath  set  hire  herte  on  any  maner  wight, 
If  he  be  false,  she  shal  his  treson  see, 
His  newe  love,  and  all  his  subtiltee 
So  openly,  that  ther  shal  nothing  hide. 

Wherfore  again  this  lusty  somer  tide 
This  mirrour  and  this  ring,  that  ye  may  se, 
He  hath  sent  to  my  lady  Canace, 
Your  excellente  doughter  that  is  here. 

The  vertue  of  this  ring,  if  ye  wol  here, 
Is  this,  that  if  hire  list  it  for  to  were 
Upon  hire  thombe,  or  in  hire  purse  it  bere, 
Ther  is  no  foule  that  fleeth  under  heven, 
That  she  ne  shal  wel  understond  his  steven,6 
And  know  his  mening  openly  and  plaine, 
And  answere  him  in  his  langage  again : 
And  every  gras6  that  groweth  upon  rote7 
She  shal  eke  know,  and  whom  it  wol  do  bote,8 


1  In  dry  weather  or  wet. 

2  Fault. 

*  Knew  many  a  trick. 

♦Seal. 

5  Voice. 

«  Herb. 

7  Root. 

8  Help,  remedy. 

10469-10508.  THE   SQUIEUES  TALE.  285 

All  be  his  woundes  never  so  depe  and  wide. 

This  naked  swerd,  that  hangeth  by  my  side, 
Swiche  vertue  hath,  that  what  man  that  it  smite, 
Thurghout  his  armure  it  wol  kerve  and  bite, 
Were  it  as  thicke  as  is  a  braunched  oke : 
And  what  man  that  is  wounded  with  the  stroke 
Shal  never  be  hole,  til  that  you  list  of  grace 
To  stroken  him  with  the  platte1  in  thilke  place 
Ther  he  is  hurt;  this  is  as  much  to  sain, 
Ye  moten  with  the  platte  swerd  again 
Stroken  him  in  the  wound,  and  it  wol  close. 
This  is  the  veray  soth  withouten  glose, 
It  failleth  not,  while  it  is  in  your  hold. 

And  whan  this  knight  hath  thus  his  tale  told, 
He  rideth  out  of  halle,  and  doun  he  light : 
His  stede,  which  that  shone  as  sonne  bright, 
Stant  in  the  court  as  stille  as  any  ston. 
This  knight  is  to  his  chambre  ladde  anoD, 
And  is  unarmed,  and  to  the  mete  ysette. 
Thise  presents  ben  ful  richelich  yfette, 
This  is  to  sain,  the  swerd  and  the  mirrour, 
And  borne  anon  into  the  highe  tour, 
With  certain  officers  ordained  therfore ; 
And  unto  Canaee  the  ring  is  bore 
Solempnely,  ther  she  sat  at  the  table ; 
But  sikerly,2  withouten  any  fable, 
The  hors  of  bras,  that  may  not  be  remued  f 
It  stant,  as  it  were  to  the  ground  yglued; 
Ther  may  no  man  out  of  the  place  it  drive 
For  non  engine,  of  windas,4  or  polive  :5 
And  cause  why,  for  they  con  not  the  craft, 
And  therfore  in  the  place  they  han  it  laft, 
Til  that  the  knight  hath  taught  hem  the  manere 
To  voiden6  him,  as  ye  shal  after  here. 
Gret  was  the  prees,  that  swarmed  to  and  fro 
To  gauren7  on  this  hors  that  stondeth  so : 
For  it  so  high  was,  and  so  brod  and  long, 
So  wel  proportioned  for  to  be  strong, 
Right  as  it  were  a  stede  of  Lumbardie; 
Therwith  so  horsly,  and  so  quik  of  eye, 

1  The  flat  of  the  sword.  *  In  truth. 

'  Removed.  *  Windlas.  Fr.  guiwldL  *  Pulley. 

*  Remove.  '  Gaze. 


286  THE  CANTERBURY   TALES.         10509-10540. 

As  it  a  gentil  Poileis1  courser  were : 
For  certes,  fro  his  tayl  unto  his  ere 
Nature  ne  art  ne  coud  him  not  amend 
In  no  degree,  as  all  the  peple  wend. 

But  evermore  hir  moste  wonder  was, 
How  that  it  coude  gon,  and  was  of  bras; 
It  was  of  faerie,  as  the  peple  semed. 
Diverse  folk  diversely  han  demed ; 
As  many  heds,s  as  many  wittes  ben. 
They'  murmured,  as  doth  a  swarme  of  been, 
And  maden  skilles3  after  hir  fantasies, 
Eehersing  of  the  olde  poetries, 
And  sayd  it  was  ylike  the  Pegasee, 
The  hors  that  hadde  winges  for  to  flee, 
Or  elles  it  was  the  Grekes  hors  Sinon,4 
That  broughte  Troye  to  destruction, 
As  men  moun  in  thise  olde  gestes  rede. 

Min  herte  (quod  on)  is  evermore  in  drede, 
I  trow  som  men  of  armes  ben  therin, 
That  shapen  hem5  this  citee  for  to  win : 
It  were  right  good  that  al  swiche  thing  were  know. 
Another  rowned6  to  his  lelaw  low, 
And  sayd,  He  lieth,  for  it  is  rather  like 
An  apparence  ymade  by  som  magike, 
As  jogelours  plaien  at  thise  festes  grete. 
Of  sondry  doutes  thus  they  jangle  and  trete, 
As  lewed  peple  demen  comunly 
Of  thinges,  that  ben  made  more  subtilly, 
Than  they  can  in  hir  lewednesse7  comprehende, 
They  demen  gladly  to  the  badder  ende. 

And  som  of  hem  wondred  on  the  mirrour, 
That  born  was  up  in  to  the  maister  tour, 


1  A  horse  of  Apulia,  which  in  old  Fr.  was  usually  called  Poille.  The 
horses  of  that  country  were  much  esteemed.  MS.  Bod.  James  vi.  142. 
Richard,  Archbp.  of  Armagh,  in  the  xivth  century,  says,  in  praise  of  our 
St.  Thomas,  ■  quod  nee  mulus  Hispanix,  nee  dextrarius  Apulia,  neo 
repedo  ^Ethiopia:,  nee  elephantus  Asia?,  nee  camelus  Syriae  hoc  asino 
nostro  Anglise  aptior  sive  audentior  invenitur  ad  prslia."  lie  had 
before  informed  bis  audience,  that  Thomas,  Anglice,  idem  est  quod 
Thorn.  Asinu*.  There  is  a  patent  in  Kymer,  2  E.  II.  De  dextrariis  in 
Lumbardia  emetidu. —  Tyrvchitt. 

2  Cf.  Latin  proverb:  "  Quot  homines,  tot  sententise." 

3  Devised  reasons.  4  /.  e.,  the  horse  of  Sinon  the  Greek. 

4  Devise.  •  Whispered.  1  Ignorance, 


10541-10580.  THE  SQUIERES  TALE. 

How  men  mighte  in  it  swiche  thinges  see. 

Another  answerd,  and  sayd,  it  might  wel  be 
Naturelly  by  compositions 
Of  angles,  and  of  slie  reflections ; 
And  saide  that  in  Rome  was  swiche  on. 
They  speke  of  Alhazen  and  Vitellon,1 
And  Aristotle,  that  writen  in  hir  lives 
Of  queinte  mirrours,  and  of  prospectives, 
As  knowen  they,  that  han  hir  bookes  herd. 

And  other  folk  han  wondred  on  the  swerd, 
That  wolde  percen  thurchout  every  thing: 
And  fell  in  speche  of  Telephus  the  king, 
And  of  Achilles  for  his  queinte  spere, 
For  he  coude  with  it  bothe  hele  and  dere,* 
Eight  in  swiche  wise  as  men  may  with  the  swerd, 
Of  which  right  now  ye  have  yourselven  herd. 
They  speken  of  sondry  harding  of  metall, 
And  speken  of  medicines  therwithall, 
And  how,  and  whan  it  shuld  yharded  be, 
Which  is  unknow  algates  unto  me. 

Tho  speken  they  of  Canacees  ring, 
And  saiden  all,  that  swiche  a  wonder  thing 
Ot  craft  of  ringes  herd  they  never  non, 
Save  that  he  Moises  and  king  Salomon 
II  add  en  a  name  of  conning  in  swiche  art. 
Thus  sain  the  peple,  and  drawen  hem  apart. 

But  natheles  some  saiden  that  it  was 
Wonder  to  maken  of  feme  ashen  glas, 
And  yet  is  glas  nought  like  ashen  of  feme, 
But  for  they  han  yknowen  it  so  feme, 
Therfore  ceseth  hir  jangling  and  hir  wonder. 

As  sore  wondren  som  on  cause  ot  thonder, 
On  ebbe  and  floud,  on  gossomer,  and  on  mist> 
And  on  all  thing,  til  that  the  cause  is  wist. 

Thus  janglen  they,  and  demen  and  devise, 
Til  that  the  king  gan  fro  his  bord  arise. 

Phebus  hath  left  the  angle  meridional, 
And  yet  ascending  was  the  beste  real, 
The  gentil  Leon,  with  his  Aldrian,3 
Whan  that  this  Tartre  king,  this  Cambuscan, 

1  Two  writers  on  optics,  the  first  about  a.o.  1 100.  the  second  is  said 
to  have  lived  till  ad.  1270. 
3  Harm,  wound.  3  A  star  on  the  neck  of  the  constellation  Leo. 


288  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES.  10581-10620, 

Eose  from  his  bord,  ther  as  he  sat  ful  hie : 
Beforne  him  goth  the  loude  minstralcie, 
Till  he  come  to  his  chambre  of  parements,1 
Ther  as  they  sounden  divers  instruments, 
That  it  is  like  an  heven  for  to  here. 

Now  dauncen  lusty  Venus  children  dere: 
For  in  the  fish2  hir  lady  set  ful  hie, 
And  loketh  on  hem  with  a  frendly  eye. 

This  noble  king  is  set  upon  his  trone ; 
This  straunge  knight  is  fet3  to  him  ful  sone, 
And  on  the  daunce  he  goth  with  Canace. 

Sere  is  the  re  veil  and  the  jolitee, 
That  is  not  able  a  dull  man  to  devise : 
He  must  han  knowen  love  and  his  servise, 
And  ben  a  festlich  man,  as  fresh  as  May, , 
That  shulde  you  devisen  swiche  array. 

Who  coude  tellen  you  the  forme  of  daunces 
So  uncouth,  and  so  freshe  contenaunces, 
Swiche  subtil  lokings  and  dissimulings, 
For  dred  of  jalous  mennes  apperceivings  ? 
No  man  but  Launcelot,  and  he  is  ded. 
Therfore  I  passe  over  all  this  lustyhed, 
I  say  no  more,  but  in  this  jolinesse 
I  lete  hem,  til  men  to  the  souper  hem  dresse. 

The  steward  bit4  the  spices  for  to  hie5 
And  eke  the  win,  in  all  this  melodie; 
The  ushers  and  the  squierie  ben  gon, 
The  spices  and  the  win  is  come  anon: 
They  ete  and  drinke,  and  whan  this  had  an  end, 
Unto  the  temple,  as  reson  was,  they  wend: 
The  service  don,  they  soupen  all  by  day. 

What  nedeth  you  rehersen  hir  array? 
Eche  man  wot  wel,  that  at  a  kinges  fest 
Is  plentee,  to  the  most  and  to  the  lest, 
And  deintees  mo  than  ben  in  my  knowing. 

At  after  souper  goth  this  noble  king 
To  seen  this  hors  of  bras,  with  all  a  route 
Of  lordes  and  of  ladies  him  aboute. 
Swiche  wondring  was  ther  on  this  hors  of  bras, 
That  sin  the  gret  assege  of  Troye  was, 

1  Presence  chamber.    Cf.  vs.  2513. 

*  /. «.,  the  "  exaltation  "  of  Venus  was  in  the  constellation  Pisces. 

*  Fetched.  4  Biddeth.  &  Hasten, 


10621-10660.  THE  SQUIERES  TALE. 

Ther  as  men  wondred  on  an  hors  also, 
Ne  was  ther  swiche  a  wondring,  as  was  tho. 
But  finally  the  king  asketh  the  knight 
The  vertue  of  this  courser,  and  the  might, 
And  praied  him  to  tell  his  governaunce. 

This  hors  anon  gan  for  to  trip  and  daunce, 
"Whan  that  the  knight  laid  hond  up  on  his  rein, 
And  saide,  sire,  ther  n'is  no  more  to  sain, 
But  whan  you  list  to  riden  any  where, 
Ye  moten  trill1  a  pin,  stant  in  his  ere, 
"Which  I  shal  tellen  you  betwixt  us  two, 
Ye  moten  nempne2  him  to  what  place  also, 
Or  to  what  contree  that  you  list  to  ride. 

And  whan  ye  come  ther  as  you  list  abide, 
Bid  him  descend,  and  trill  another  pin, 
(For  therin  lieth  the  effect  of  all  the  gin) 
And  he  wol  doun  descend  and  don  your  will, 
And  in  that  place  he  wol  abiden  still : 
Though  al  the  world  had  the  contrary  swore, 
He  shal  not  thennes  be  drawe  ne  be  bore. 
Or  if  you  list  to  bid  him  thennes  gon, 
Trille  this  pin,  and  he  wol  vanish  anon 
Out  of  the  sight  of  every  maner  wight, 
And  come  agen,  be  it  by  day  or  night, 
"Whan  that  you  list  to  clepen  him  again 
In  swiche  a  guise,  as  I  shal  to  you  sain 
Betwixen  you  and  me,  and  that  ful  sone. 
Kide  whan  you  list,  ther  n'is  no  more  to  done. 

Enfourmed  whan  the  king  was  of  the  knight, 
And  hath  conceived  in  his  wit  aright 
The  maner  and  the  forme  of  all  this  thing, 
Ful  glad  and  blith,  this  noble  doughty  king 
Bepaireth  to  his  revel,  as  beforne. 
The  bridel  is  in  to  the  tour  yborne, 
And  kept  among  his  jewels  lefe  and  dere ; 
The  hors  vanisht,  I  n'ot  in  what  manere, 
Out  of  hir  sight,  ye  get  no  more  of  me: 
But  thus  I  lete  in  lust  and  jolitee 
This  Cambuscan  his  lordes  festeying, 
Til  that  wel  nigh  the  day  began  to  spring, 

1  Twirl,  turn  round.  >  TelL 

25 


290  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         10661-10693. 


PARS  SECUNDA. 

The  norice1  of  digestion,  the  slepe, 
Gan  on  hem  winke,  and  bad  hem  taken  kepe, 
That  mochel2  drink,  and  labour  wol  have  rest: 
And  with  a  galping3  mouth  hem  all  he  kest, 
And  said,  that  it  was  time  to  lie  adoun, 
For  blood  was  in  his  dominatioun  :4 
Cherisheth  blood,  natures  frend,  quod  he. 

They  than  ken  him  galping,  by  two  by  three; 
And  every  wight  gan  drawe  him  to  his  rest, 
As  slepe  hem  bade,  they  toke  it  for  the  best. 

Hir  dremes  shul  not  now  be  told  for  me; 
Ful  were  hir  hedes  of  fumositee, 
That  causeth  dreme,  of  which  ther  is  no  charge. 
They  slepen  til  that  it  was  prime  large, 
The  moste  part,  but  it  were  Canace ; 
She  was  ful  mesurable,5  as  women  be. 
For  of  hire  father  had  she  take  hire  leva 
To  gon  to  rest,  sone  after  it  was  eve ; 
Hire  liste  not  appalled  for  to  be, 
Nor  on  the  morwe  unfestliche  for  to  see ; 
And  slept  hire  firste  slepe,  and  than  awoke. 
For  swiche  a  joye  she  in  hire  herte  toke 
Both  of  hire  queinte  ring,  and  of  hire  mirrotir, 
That  twenty  time  she  chaunged  hire  colour; 
And  in  hire  slepe  right  for  the  impression 
Of  hire  mirrour  she  had  a  vision. 
Wherfore,  or  that  the  sonne  gan  up  glide, 
She  clepeth  upon  hire  maistresse  hire  beside, 
And  saide,  that  hire  luste  for  to  arise. 

Thise  olde  women,  that  ben  gladly  wise, 
As  is  hire  maistresse,  answered  hire  anon, 
And  said;  Madame,  whider  wol  ye  gon. 

*  Nurse. 
2  That  mochel  drinke  and  labour]  So  MSS.  C.  1.  HA.    In  MS.  A.  ft 
is,  That  mirthe  and  labour.     In  Ask.  1.  2.     That  after  moche  labour.     In 
several  other  MSS.  and  Editt.  Ca.  1.  2.     That  moche  mete  and  labour. 
We  must  search  further,  I  apprehend,  for  the  true  reading. — Tyrwhitt. 
3  Gaping,  yawning. 
*  Galen  says  that  blood  is  in  its  domination  for  seven  hours,  viz.,  from 
the  ninth  hour  of  night  to  the  third  of  day. — See  TyrwhiU. 
6  Moderate. 


10693-10732.  THE  SQUIERES  TALE.  291 

Thus  erly  ?  for  the  folk  ben  all  in  rest. 

I  wol,  quod  she,  arisen  (for  me  lest 
No  longer  for  to  slepe)  and  walken  aboute. 

Hire  maistresse  clepeth  women  a  gret  route, 
And  up  they  risen,  wel  a  ten  or  twelve ; 
Up  riseth  freshe  Canace  hireselve, 
As  rody  and  bright,  as  the  yonge  sonne, 
That  in  the  ram  is  foure  degrees  yronne ; 
No  higher  was  he,  whan  she  redy  was ; 
And  forth  she  walketh  esily  a  pas, 
Arrayed  after  the  lusty  seson  sote1 
Lightely  for  to  playe,  and  walken  on  fote, 
Nought  but  with  five  or  sixe  of  hire  meinie ; 
And  in  a  trenche  forth  in  the  park  goth  she. 

The  vapour,  which  that  fro  the  erthe  glode, 
Maketh  the  sonne  to  seme  rody  and  brode: 
But  natheles,  it  was  so  faire  a  sight, 
That  it  made  all  hir  hertes  for  to  light, 
What  for  the  seson,  and  the  morwening, 
And  for  the  foules  that  she  herde  sing. 
For  right  anon  she  wiste  what  they  ment 
Eight  by  hir  song,  and  knew  all  hir  entent. 

The  knotte,2  why  that  every  tale  is  tolde, 
If  it  be  taried  til  the  lust  be  colde 
Of  hem,  that  han  it  herkened  after  yore, 
The  savour  passeth  ever  lenger  the  more, 
For  fulsumnesse  of  the  prolixitee: 
And  by  that  same  reson  thinketh  me 
I  shuld  unto  the  knotte  condescende, 
And  maken  of  hire  walking  sone  an  ende. 

Amidde  a  tree  for-dry,3  as  white  as  chalk, 
As  Canace  was  playing  in  hire  walk, 
Ther  sat  a  faucon  over  hire  hed  ful  hie, 
That  with  a  pitous  vois  so  gan  to  crie, 
That  all  the  wood  resouned  of  hire  cry, 
And  beten  had  hireself  so  pitously 
With  bothe  hire  winges,  til  the  rede  blood 
Ran  endelong  the  tree,  ther  as  she  stood. 
And  ever  in  on  alway  she  cried  and  shright,4 
And  with  hire  bek  hireselven  she  so  twight,* 

1  Sweet. 
8  J. «.,  the  main  event,  the  development  of  the  story. 
8  Full  dry.     For  is  frequently  intensive  in  composition. 
4  Shrieked.  •>  Plucked,  mangled. 


292  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  10733-10772. 

That  ther  n'is  tigre,  ne  no  cruel  best, 
That  dwelleth  other  in  wood,  or  in  forest, 
That  n'olde  han  wept,  if  that  he  wepen  coude, 
For  sorwe  of  hire,  she  shright  alway  so  loude. 

For  ther  was  never  yet  no  man  on  live, 
If  that  he  coude  a  faucon  wel  descrive, 
That  herde  of  swiche  another  of  layreness© 
As  wel  of  plumage,  as  of  gentilesse, 
Of  shape,  of  all  that  might  yrekened  be.     - 
A  faucon  peregrine  semed  she 
Of  fremde  lond,1  and  ever  as  she  stood, 
She  swouned  now  and  now  for  lack  of  blood, 
Til  wel  neigh  is  she  fallen  fro  the  tree. 

This  faire  kinges  doughter  Canace, 
That  on  hire  finger  bare  the  queinte  ring, 
Thurgh  which  she  understood  wel  every  thing 
That  any  foule  may  in  his  leden  sain, 
And  coude  answere  him  in  his  leden2  again, 
Hath  understonden  what  this  faucon  seyd, 
And  wel  neigh  for  the  routhe  almost  she  deyd: 
And  to  the  tree  she  goth  ful  hastily, 
And  on  this  faucon  loketh  pitously, 
And  held  hire  lap  abrode,  for  wel  she  wist 
The  faucon  muste  fallen  from  the  twist3 
Whan  that  she  swouned  next,  for  faute4  of  blood. 
A  longe  while  to  waiten  hire  she  stood, 
Til  at  the  last  she  spake  in  this  manere 
Unto  the  hauk,  as  ye  shul  after  here. 

What  is  the  cause,  if  it  be  for  to  tell, 
That  ye  ben  in  this  furial  peine  of  hell  ? 
Quod  Canace  unto  this  hauk  above ; 
Is  this  for  sorwe  of  deth,  or  losse  of  love  f 
For  as  I  trow,  thise  be  the  causes  two, 
That  causen  most  a  gentil  herte  wo. 
Of  other  harme  it  nedeth  not  to  speke, 
For  ye  yourself  upon  yourself  awreke, 
Which  preveth  wel,  that  other  ire  or  drede 
Mote  ben  encheson5  of  your  cruel  dede, 
Sin  that  I  se  non  other  wight  you  chace. 
For  the  love  of  God,  as  doth  yourselven  grace: 

1  The  same  as  "  peregrine,'  i.  e.  from  a  strange  country. 

3  Language,  a  corruption  of  Latin 

8  Twig,  branch.  4  In  default.  s  Occasion. 


10773-10814.  THE  SQUIERES  TALE.  293 

Or  what  may  be  your  helpe  1  for  west  ne  est 
Ne  saw  I  never  er  now  no  brid  ne  best, 
That  ferde  with  himself  so  pitously. 
Ye  sle  me  with  your  sorwe  veraily, 
I  have  of  you  so  gret  compassioun. 
For  Goddes  love  come  fro  the  tree  adoun ; 
And  as  I  am  a  kinges  doughter  trewe, 
If  that  I  veraily  the  causes  knewe 
Of  your  disese,  if  it  lay  in  my  might, 
I  wold  amend  it,  or  that  it  were  night. 
As  wisly  help  me  the  gret  God  of  kind. 
And  herbes  shal  I  right  ynough  yfind, 
To  helen  with  your  hurtes  hastily. 

Tho1  shright  this  faucon  yet  more  pitously 
Than  ever  she  did,  and  fell  to  ground  anon, 
And  lith  aswoune,  as  ded  as  lith  a  ston, 
Til  Canace  hath  in  hire  lappe  hire  take, 
Unto  that  time  she  gan  of  swoune  awake: 
And  after  that  she  out  of  swoune  abraide, 
Bight  in  hire  haukes  leden2  thus  she  sayde. 

That  pitee  renneth  sone  in  gentil  herte 
(Feling  his  similitude  in  peines  smerte) 
Is  proved  alle  day,  as  men  may  see, 
As  wel  by  werke  as  by  auctoritee, 
For  gentil  herte  kitheth3  gentillesse. 
I  see  wel,  that  ye  have  on  my  distress© 
Compassion,  my  faire  Canace, 
Of  veray  womanly  benignitee, 
That  nature  in  your  principles  hath  set. 
But  for  non  hope  for  to  fare  the  bet, 
But  for  to  obey  unto  your  herte  free, 
And  for  to  maken  other  y  ware  by  me, 
As  by  the  whelpe  chastised  is  the  leon, 
Bight  for  that  cause  and  that  conclusion, 
"While  that  I  have  a  leiser  and  a  space, 
Min  harme  I  wol  confessen  er  I  pace. 
And  ever  while  that  on  hire  sorwe  told, 
That  other  wept,  as  she  to  water  wold, 
Til  that  the  faucon  bad  hire  to  be  still, 
And  with  a  sike4  right  thus  she  said  hire  tilL 

Ther  I  was  bred,  (alas  that  ilke  day !) 
And  fostred  in  a  roche4  of  niarble  gray 

i  Then.  2  Voice. 

» Kisseth.  « Sigh.  •  Bock. 

25* 


294  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  10815-10858. 

So  tendrely,  that  nothing  ailed  me. 
I  ne  wist  not  what  was  adversitee, 
Til  I  coud  flee  ful  high  under  the  skie. 

Tho  dwelled  a  tercelet1  me  faste  by, 
That  semed  welle  of  alle  gentillesse, 
Al  were  he  ful  of  treson  and  falsenesse. 
It  was  so  wrapped  under  humble  chere, 
And  under  hew  of  trouth  in  swiche  manere, 
Under  plesance,  and  under  besy  peine, 
That  no  wight  coud  have  wend  he  coude  feine, 
So  depe  in  greyn  he  died  his  coloures. 
Eight  as  a  serpent  hideth  him  under  floures, 
Til  he  may  see  his  time  for  to  bite ; 
Eight  so  this  god  of  loves  hypocrite 
Doth  so  his  ceremonies  and  obeisance, 
And  kepeth  in  semblaunt  alle  his  observance, 
That  souneth  unto2  gentillesse  of  love. 
As  on  a  tombe  is  all  the  faire  above, 
And  under  is  the  corps,  swiche  as  ye  wote ; 
Swiche  was  this  hypocrite  both  cold  and  hote, 
And  in  this  wise  he  served  his  entent, 
That,  save  the  fend,  non  wiste  what  he  ment: 
Til  he  so  long  had  weped  and  complained, 
And  many  a  yere  his  service  to  me  fained, 
Till  that  min  herte,  to  pitous  and  to  nice, 
Al  innocent  of  his  crowned  malice, 
For-fered  of  his  deth,  as  thoughte  me, 
Upon  his  olhes  and  his  seuretee, 
Graunted  him  love,  on  this  conditioun, 
That  evermo  min  honour  and  renoun 
"Were  saved,  bothe  privee  and  apert; 
This  is  to  say,  that,  after  his  desert, 
I  yave  him  all  min  herte  and  all  my  thought, 
(God  wote,  and  he,  that  other  wayes  nought) 
And  toke  his  herte  in  chaunge  of  min  for  ay. 
But  soth  is  said,  gon  sithen  is  many  a  day, 
A  trewe  wight  and  a  theef  thinken  not  on. 

And  whan  he  saw  the  thing  so  fer  ygon, 
That  I  had  granted  him  fully  my  love, 
In  swiche  a  guise  as  I  have  said  above, 
And  yeven  him  my  trewe  herte  as  free 
As  he  swore  that  he  yaf  his  herte  to  me, 
Anon  this  tigre,  ful  of  doublenesse, 
Fell  on  his  knees  with  so  gret  humblesse, 
1  A  male  hawk.  2  Is  consonant  to. 


10859-10900.  THE  SQUIEEES  TALE.  295 

With  so  high  reverence,  as  by  his  chere, 
So  like  a  gentil  lover  of  manere, 
So  ravished,  as  it  semed,  for  the  joye, 
That  never  Jason,  ne  Paris  of  Troye, 
Jason  ?  certes,  ne  never  other  man, 
Sin  Lamech  was,  that  alderfirst  began 
To  loven  two,  as  writen  folk  beforne, 
Ne  never  sithen  the  first  man  was  borne, 
Ne  coude  man  by  twenty  thousand  part 
Contrefete  the  sophimes  of  his  art ; 
Ne  were  worthy  to  unbocle  his  galoche,1 
Ther  doublenesse  of  faining  shuld  approche, 
Ne  coude  so  thanke  a  wight,  as  he  did  me. 
His  maner  was  an  heven  for  to  see 
To  any  woman,  were  she  never  so  wise ; 
So  painted  he  and  kempt,  at  point  devise, 
As  wel  his  wordes,  as  his  contenance. 
And  I  so  loved  him  for  his  obeisance, 
And  for  the  trouthe  I  demed  in  his  herte, 
That  if  so  were  that  anything  him  smerte, 
Al  were  it  never  so  lite,  and  I  it  wist, 
!Me  thought  I  felt  deth  at  myn  herte  twist. 
And  shortly,  so  ferforth  this  thing  is  went, 
That  my  will  was  his  willes  instrument; 
This  is  to  say,  my  will  obeied  his  will 
In  alle  thing,  as  fer  as  reson  fill, 
Keping  the  boundes  of  my  worship  ever; 
Ne  never  had  I  thing  so  lefe,  ne  lever, 
As  him,  God  wot,  ne  never  shal  no  mo. 

This  lasteth  lenger  than  a  yere  or  two, 
That  I  supposed  of  him  nought  but  good. 
But  finally,  thus  at  the  last  it  stood, 
That  fortune  wolde  that  he  muste  twin' 
Out  of  that  place,  which  that  I  was  in. 
Wher  me  was  wo,  it  is  no  question ; 
I  cannot  make  of  it  description. 
For  o  thing  dare  I  tellen  boldely, 
I  know  what  is  the  peine  of  deth  therby, 
Swiche  harme  I  felt,  for  he  ne  might  byleve. 

So  on  a  day  of  me  he  toke  his  leve, 
So  sorweful  eke,  that  I  wend  veraily, 
That  he  had  felt  as  mochel  harme  as  I, 

1  Shoe.  s  Depart. 


296  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  10901-10944. 

Whan  that  I  herd  him  speke,  and  saw  his  hewe. 

But  natheles,  I  thought  he  was  so  trewe, 

And  eke  that  he  repairen  shuld  again 

Within  a  litel  while,  soth  to  sain, 

And  reson  wold  eke  that  he  muste  go 

For  his  honour,  as  often  happeth  so, 

That  I  made  vertue  of  necessitee, 

And  toke  it  wel,  sh>that  it  muste  be. 

As  I  best  might,  I  hid  fro  him  my  sorwe, 

And  toke  him  by  the  hond,  Seint  John  to  borwe, 

And  said  him  thus ;  lo,  I  am  youres  all, 

Beth  swiche  as  I  have  ben  to  you  and  shall. 

What  he  answerd,  it  nedeth  not  reherse ; 
Who  can  say  bet  than  he,  who  can  do  werse  ? 
Whan  he  hath  al  wel  said,  than  hath  he  done. 
Therfore  behoveth  him  a  ful  long  spone, 
That  shal  ete  with  a  fend ;  thus  herd  I  say. 

So  at  the  last  he  muste  forth  his  way, 
And  forth  he  fleeth,  til  he  come  ther  him  lest. 
Whan  it  came  him  to  purpos  for  to  rest, 
I  trow  that  he  had  thilke  text  in  mind, 
That  alle  thing  repairing  to  his  kind 
Gladeth  himself;  thus  sain  men  as  I  gesse: 
Men  loven  of  propre  kind  newefangelnesse, 
As  briddes  don,  that  men  in  cages  fede. 
For  though  thou  night  and  day  take  of  hem  hede, 
And  strew  hir  cage  faire  and  soft  as  silk, 
And  give  hem  sugre,  hony,  bred,  and  milke, 
Yet  right  anon  as  that  his  dore  is  up, 
He  with  his  feet  wol  spurnen  doun  his  cup, 
And  to  the  wood  he  wol,  and  wormes  ete; 
So  newefangel  ben  they  of  hir  mete, 
And  loven  noveltees  of  propre  kind ; 
No  gentillesse  of  blood  ne  may  hem  bind. 

So  ferd  this  tercelet,  alas  the  day ! 
Though  he  were  gentil  borne,  and  fresh  and  gay, 
And  goodly  for  to  seen,  and  humble,  and  tree, 
He  saw  upon  a  time  a  kite  flee, 
And  sodenly  he  loved  this  kite  so, 
That  all  his  love  is  clene  fro  me  ago; 
And  hath  his  trouthe  falsed  in  this  wise. 
Thus  hath  the  kite  my  love  in  hire  service, 
And  I  am  lorn  withouten  remedy. 

And  with  that  word  this  faucon  gan  to  cry, 


10945-10984.  THE  SQTJIERES  TALE.  297 

And  swouneth  eft  in  Canacees  barme.1 
Gret  was  the  sorwe  for  that  haukes  harme, 
That  Canace  and  all  hire  women  made ; 
They  n'isten2  how  they  might  the  faucon  glade. 
But  Canace  hom  bereth  hire  in  hire  lap, 
And  softely  in  piastres  gan  hire  wrap, 
Ther  as  she  with  her  bek  had  hurt  hireselve. 

Now  cannot  Canace  but  herbes  delve 
Out  of  the  ground,  and  maken  salves  newe 
Of  herbes  precious  and  fine  of  hewe, 
To  helen  with  this  hauk ;  fro  day  to  night 
She  doth  hire  besinesse,  and  all  hire  might. 
And  by  hire  beddes  hed  she  made  a  mew,* 
And  covered  it  with  velouettes4  blew, 
In  signe  of  trouth,  that  is  in  woman  sene ; 
And  all  without  the  mew  is  peinted  grene, 
In  which  were  peinted  all  thise  false  loules, 
As  ben  thise  tidifes,5  tercelettes,  and  owles; 
And  pies,  on  hem  for  to  cry  and  chide, 
Bight  for  despit  were  peinted  hem  beside. 

Thus  lete  I  Canace  hire  hauk  keping. 
I  wol  no  more  as  now  speke  of  hire  ring, 
Til  it  come  eft  to  purpos  for  to  sain, 
How  that  this  faucon  gat  hire  love  again 
Bepentant,  as  the  story  telleth  us, 
By  mediation  of  Camballus 
The  kinges  sone,  of  which  that  I  you  told. 
But  hennesforth  I  wol  my  processe  hold 
To  speke  of  aventures,  and  of  batailles, 
That  yet  was  never  herd  so  gret  mervailles. 

First  wol  I  tellen  you  of  Cambuscan, 
That  in  his  time  many  a  citee  wan : 
And  after  wol  I  speke  of  Algarsif, 
How  that  he  wan  Theodora  to  his  wif, 
For  whom  ful  oft  in  gret  peril  he  was, 
Ne  had  he  ben  holpen  by  the  hors  of  bras. 
And  after  wol  I  speke  of  Camballo, 
That  fought  in  listes  with  the  brethren  two 
For  Canace,  er  that  he  might  hire  winne, 

And  ther  I  left  I  wol  again  beginne. 

•         *         •         ••*••• 

1  Lap,  •  Knew  not. 

*  Cage.  *  Velvets. 

5  Mentioned  also  in  the  Legend  of  Good  Women,  vs.  154,  as  an  incon- 
stant bird. 


298 
THE  FRANKELEINES  PROLOGUE. 

10D85-11010. 

In  faith,  squier,  thou  hast  thee  wel  yquit 

And  gentilly,  I  preise  wel  thy  wit, 

Quod  the  Frankelein ;  considering  thin  youthe, 

So  felingly  thou  spekest,  sire,  I  aloue1  the 

As  to  my  dome,2  ther  is  non  that  is  here, 

Of  eloquence  that  shal  be  thy  pere, 

If  that  thou  live ;  God  yeve  thee  goode  chance, 

And  in  vertue  send  thee  continuance, 

For  of  thy  speking  I  have  gret  deintee. 

I  have  a  sone,  and  by  the  Trinitee 

It  were  me  lever  than  twenty  pound  worth  lond, 

Though  it  right  now  were  fallen  in  my  bond, 

He  were  a  man  of  swiche  discretion, 

As  that  ye  ben :  fie  on  possession, 

But  if  a  man  be  vertuous  withal. 

I  have  my  sone  snibbed,3  and  yet  shal, 

For  he  to  vertue  listeth  not  to  entend, 

But  for  to  play  at  dis,  and  to  dispend, 

And  lese  all  that  he  hath,  is  his  usage; 

And  he  had  lever  talken  with  a  page, 

Than  to  commune  with  any  gentil  wight, 

Ther  he  might  leren  gentillesse  aright. 

Straw  for  your  gentillesse,  quod  our  hoste. 
What  ?  Frankelein,  parde,  sire,  wel  thou  wost, 
That  eche  of  you  mote  tellen  at  the  lest 
A  tale  or  two,  or  breken  his  behest. 
That  know  I  wel,  sire,  quod  the  Frankelein, 
I  pray  you  haveth  me  not  in  disdein, 
Though  I  to  this  man  speke  a  word  or  two. 

Tell  on  thy  tale,  withouten  wordes  mo. 

Gladly,  sire  hoste,  quod  he,  I  wol  obey 
Unto  your  will;  now  herkeneth  what  I  sey; 

i  Allow.  *  Judgment.  3  Snubbed,  reproved. 


11017-11050.        THE   FEANKELEINES   TALE.  299 

I  wol  you  not  contrarien  in  no  wise, 
As  fer  as  that  my  wittes  may  suffice. 
I  pray  to  God  that  it  may  plesen  you, 
Than  wot  I  wel  that  it  is  good  ynow. 

Thise  olde  gentil  Bretons1  in  hir  dayea 
Of  diverse  aventures  maden  layes, 
Rimeyed  in  hir  firste  Breton  tonge ; 
Which  layes  with  hir  instruments  they  songe, 
Or  elles  redden  hem  for  hir  plesance, 
And  on  of  hem  have  I  in  remembrance, 
Which  I  shal  sayn  with  good  wille  as  I  can. 

But,  sires,  because  I  am  a  borel2  man, 
At  my  beginning  first  I  you  beseche 
Have  me  excused  of  my  rude  speche. 
I  lerned  never  rhetorike  certain ; 
Thing  that  I  speke,  it  mote  be  bare  and  plain. 
I  slept  never  on  the  mount  of  Pernaso, 
Ne  lerned  Marcus  Tullius  Cicero. 
Colours  ne  know  I  non,  withouten  drede, 
But  swiche  colours  as  growen  in  the  mede, 
Or  elles  swiche  as  men  die  with  or  peinte  ; 
Colours  of  rhetorike  ben  to  me  queinte ; 
My  spirit  feleth  not  of  swiche  matere. 
But  if  you  lust  my  tale  shul  ye  here. 


In  Armorike,  that  called  is  Bretaigne, 

Ther  was  a  knight,  that  loved  and  did  his  peine 

To  serve  a  ladie  in  his  beste  wise ; 

And  many  a  labour,  many  a  gret  emprise 

He  for  his  lady  wrought,  or  she  were  wonne: 

For  she  was  on  the  fairest  under  sonne, 

And  eke  therto  comen  of  so  high  kinrede, 

That  wel  unnethes3  durst  this  knight  for  drede 

Tell  hire  his  wo,  his  peine,  and  his  distresse. 

But  at  the  last,  she  for  his  worthinesse, 

1  See  Tyrwhitt's  note,  and  Discourse,  n.  24. 
8  Bude,  plain.  »  Uneasily. 


300  THE   CANTERBURY   TALES.  11051-11092. 

And  namely  for  his  meke  obeysance, 

Hath  swiche  a  pitee  caught  of  his  penance, 

That  prively  she  fell  of  his  accord 

To  take  him  for  hire  husbond  and  hire  lord ; 

(Of  swiche  lordship  as  men  han  over  hir  wives) 

And,  for  to  lede  the  more  in  blisse  hir  Uvea, 

Of  his  free  will  he  swore  hire  as  a  knight, 

That  never  in  all  his  lif  he  day  ne  night 

Ne  shulde  take  upon  him  no  maistrie 

Agains  hire  will,  ne  kithe1  hire  jalousie, 

But  hire  obey,  and  folwe  hire  will  in  al, 

As  any  lover  to  his  lady  shal : 

Save  that  the  name  of  soverainetee 

That  wold  he  han  for  shame  of  his  degree. 

She  thonked  him,  and  with  ful  gret  humblesse 

She  saide ;  sire,  sin  of  your  gentillesse 

Ye  profren  me  to  have  so  large  a  reine, 

Ne  wolde  God  never  betwix  us  tweine, 

As  in  my  gilt,  were  either  werre  or  strif : 

Sire,  I  wol  be  your  humble  trewe  wif, 

Have  here  my  trouth,  til  that  myn  herte  breste. 

Thus  ben  they  both  in  quiete  and  in  reste. 

For  o  thing,  sires,  saufly  dare  I  seie, 
That  frendes  everich  other  must  obeie, 
If  they  wol  longe  holden  compagnie. 
Love  wol  not  be  constreined  by  maistrie. 
Whan  maistrie  cometh,  the  God  of  love  anon 
Beteth2  his  winges,  and  farewel,  he  is  gon. 
Love  is  a  thing,  as  any  spirit,  free. 
Women  of  kind  desiren  hbertee, 
And  not  to  be  constreined  as  a  thral ; 
And  so  don  men,  if  sothly  I  say  shal. 
Loke  who  that  is  most  patient  in  love, 
He  is  at  his  avantage  all  above. 
Patience  is  an  high  vertue  certain, 
For  it  venquisheth,  as  thise  clerkes  sain, 
Thinges  that  rigour  never  shulde  atteine. 
For  every  word  men  may  not  chide  or  pleine. 
Lerneth  to  suffren,  or,  so  mote  T  gon, 
Ye  shul  it  lerne  whether  ye  wol  or  non. 
For  in  this  world  certain  no  wight  ther  is, 
That  he  ne  doth  or  sayth  somtime  amis. 

i  Shew.  3  Maketb  ready. 


11093—11132.        THE   FRANKELEINES  TALE.  301 

Ire,  sikenesse,  or  constellation, 
Win,  wo,  or  changing  of  complexion, 
Causeth  ful  oft  to  don  amis  or  speken. 
On  every  wrong  a  man  may  not  be  wreken. 
After  the  time  must  be  temperance 
To  every  wight  that  can  oi"  governance. 
And  therfore  hath  this  worthy  wise  knight 
(To  liven  in  ese)  suffrance  hire  behight; 
And  she  to  him  ful  wisly  gan  to  swere, 
That  never  shuld  ther  be  defaute  in  here. 

Here  may  men  seen  an  humble  wise  accord : 
Thus  hath  she  take  hire  servant  and  hire  lord, 
Servant  in  love,  and  lord  in  mariage. 
Than  was  he  both  in  lordship  and  servage  ? 
Servage  1  nay,  but  in  lordship  al  above, 
Sin  he  hath  both  his  lady  and  his  love: 
His  lady  certes,  and  his  wif  also, 
The  which  that  law  of  love  accordeth  to. 
And  whan  he  was  in  this  prosperitee, 
Home  with  his  wif  he  goth  to  his  contree, 
Not  fer  fro  Penmark,1  ther  his  dwelling  was, 
Wher  as  he  liveth  in  blisse  and  in  solas. 
Who  coude  tell,  but  he  had  wedded  be, 
The  joye,  the  ese,  and  the  prosperitee. 
That  is  betwix  an  husbond  and  his  wif  ? 
A  yere  and  more  lasteth  this  blisful  lif, 
Til  that  this  knight,  of  which  I  spake  of  thus, 
That  of  Cairrud2  was  cleped  Arviragus, 
Shope  him  to  gon  and  dwelle  a  yere  or  twaine 
In  Englelond,  that  cleped  was  eke  Bretaigne, 
To  seke  in  armes  worship  and  honour : 
(For  all  his  lust  he  set  in  swiche  labour) 
And  dwelte  ther  two  yere ;  the  book  saith  thus. 

Now  wol  I  stint  of  this  Arviragus, 
And  speke  I  wol  of  Dorigene3  his  wif, 
That  loveth  hire  husbond  as  hire  hertes  lif. 
For  his  absence  wepeth  she  and  siketh, 
As  don  thise  noble  wives  whan  hem  liketh ; 
She  morneth,  waketh,  waileth,  fasteth,  pleineth  ? 
Desir  of  his  presence  hire  so  distraineth, 

'  Upon  the  western  coast  of  Brctagne,  between  Brest  and  Port 
L'Orient.     It  is  derived  from  Ten,  a  mountain,  and  Mark,  a  boundary. 

3  Also  a  British  word,  signifying  the  Red  City. 

3  Droguen,  or  Dorguen,  waa  the  name  of  the  wife  of  Alain  I. — 
TyruhUt.  *  Lamenteth. 

26 


302  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  11133-11174. 

That  all  this  wide  world  she  set  at  nought. 
Hire  frendes,  which  that  knew  hire  hevy  thought, 
Comforten  hire  in  all  that  ever  they  may ; 
They  prechen  hire,  they  telle  hire  night  and  day, 
That  causeles  she  sleth  hireself,  alas ! 
And  every  comfort  possible  in  this  cas 
They  don  to  hire,  with  all  hir  besinesse, 
Al  for  to  make  hire  leve  hire  hevinesse. 

By  processe,  as  ye  knowen  everich  on, 
Men  mowe  so  longe  graven  in  a  ston, 
Til  som  figure  therin  emprented  be : 
So  long  han  they  comforted  hire,  til  she 
Beceived  hath,  by  hope  and  by  reson, 
The  emprenting  of  hir  consolation, 
Thurgh  which  hire  grete  sorwe  gan  assuage; 
She  may  not  alway  duren  in  swiche  rage. 
And  eke  Arviragus,  in  all  this  care, 
Hath  sent  his  lettres  home  of  his  welfare, 
And  that  he  wol  come  hastily  again, 
Or  elles  had  this  sorwe  hire  herte  slain. 

Hire  frendes  saw  hire  sorwe  gan  to  slake, 
And  preiden  hire  on  knees  for  Goddes  sake, 
To  come  and  romen  in  hir  compagnie, 
Away  to  driven  hire  derke  fantasie : 
And  finally  she  granted  that  request, 
For  wel  she  saw  that  it  was  for  the  best. 

Now  stood  hire  castel  faste  by  the  see, 
And  often  with  hire  frendes  walked  she, 
Hire  to  disporten  on  the  bank  an  hie, 
"Wher  as  she  many  a  ship  and  barge  sie, 
Sailing  hir  cours,  wher  as  hem  list  to  go. 
But  than  was  that  a  parcel  of  hire  wo, 
For  to  hireself  ful  oft,  alas !  said  she, 
Is  ther  no  ship,  of  so  many  as  I  see, 
"Wol  bringen  home  my  lord?  than  were  mf  herte 
Al  warished1  of  his  bitter  peines  smerte. 

Another  time  wold  she  sit  and  thinke, 
And  cast  her  eyen  dounward  fro  the  brinke ; 
But  whan  she  saw  the  grisly  rockes  blake, 
For  veray  fere  so  wold  hire  herte  quake, 
That  on  hire  feet  she  might  hire  not  sustene. 
Than  wold  she  sit  adoun  upon  the  grene, 

>  Healed. 


11175-11216.        THE   FRANKELEINES  TALE.  303 

And  pitously  into  the  see  behold, 

And  say  right  thus,  with  careful  Bikes1  cold. 

Eterne  God,  that  thurgh  thy  purveance 
Ledest  this  world  by  certain  governance, 
In  idel,a  as  men  sain,  ye  nothing  make. 
But,  lord,  thise  grisly  fendly  rockes  blake, 
That  semen  rather  a  foule  confusion 
Of  werk,  than  any  faire  creation 
Of  swiche  a  parfit  wise  God  and  stable, 
Why  han  ye  wrought  this  werk  unresonable  ? 
For  by  this  werk,  north,  south,  ne  west,  ne  est, 
Ther  n'is  yfostred  man,  ne  brid,  ne  best: 
It  doth  no  good,  to  my  wit,  but  anoyeth. 
See  ye  not,  lord,  how  mankind  it  destroyeth  ? 
An  hundred  thousand  bodies  of  mankind  • 

Han  rockes  slain,  al  be  they  not  in  mind ; 
"Which  mankind  is  so  faire  part  of  thy  werk, 
Thou  madest  it  like  to  thyn  owen  merk.    . 
Than,  semeth  it,  ye  had  a  gret  chertee 
Toward  mankind ;  but  how  than  may  it  be, 
That  ye  swiche  menes  make  it  to  destroyenl 
Which  menes  don  no  good,  but  ever  anoyen. 

I  wote  wel,  clerkes  wol  sain  as  hem  lest 
By  arguments,  that  all  is  for  the  best, 
Though  I  ne  can  the  causes  nought  yknow ; 
But  tnilke  God  that  made  the  wind  to  blow, 
As  kepe  my  lord,  this  is  my  conclusion : 
To  clerkes  lete  I  all  disputison: 
But  wolde  God,  that  all  thise  rockes  blake 
Were  sonken  into  helle  for  his  sake. 
Thise  rockes  slee  min  herte  for  the  fere. 
Thus  wold  she  say  with  many  a  pitous  tere. 

Hire  frendes  saw  that  it  was  no  disport 
To  romen  by  the  see,  but  discomfort, 
And  shape  hem  for  to  plaien  somwher  elles. 
They  leden  hire  by  rivers  and  by  welles, 
And  eke  in  other  places  delitables ; 
They  dancen  and  they  play  at  ches  and  tables. 

So  on  a  day,  right  in  the  morwe  tide, 
Unto  a  gardin  that  was  ther  beside, 
In  which  that  they  had  made  hir  ordinance 
Of  vitaille,  and  of  other  purveance, 

i  Anxious  sighs.  >  Vain. 


304  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         11217-11268. 

They  gon  and  plaie  hem  all  the  longe  day: 

And  this  was  on  the  sixte  morwe  of  May, 

Which  May  had  peinted  with  his  softe  shoures 

This  gardin  ful  of  leves  and  of  floures : 

And  craft  of  mannes  hond  so  curiously 

Arrayed  had  this  gardin  trewely, 

That  never  was  ther  gardin  of  swiche  pris^ 

But  if  it  were  the  veray  paradis. 

The  odour  of  floures,  and  the  freshe  sight, 

Wold  han  ymaked  any  herte  light 

That  ever  was  born,  but  if  to  gret  sikenesse 

Or  to  gret  sorwe  held  it  in  distresse, 

So  ful  it  was  of  beautee  and  plesance. 

And  after  dinner  gonnen  they  to  dance 
And  sing  also,  sauf  Dorigene  alone, 
Which  made  alway  hire  complaint  and  hire  mone, 
For  she  ne  saw  him  on  the  dance  go, 
That  was  hire  husbond,  and  hire  love  also: 
But  nathlees  she  must  a  time  abide, 
And  with  good  hope  let  hire  sorwe  slide. 

Upon  this  dance,  amonges  other  men, 
Danced  a  squier  before  Dorigen, 
That  fresher  was  and  jolier  of  array, 
As  to  my  dome,1  than  is  the  month  of  May. 
He  singeth,  danceth,  passing  any  man, 
That  is  or  was  sin  that  the  world  began: 
Therwith  he  was,  if  men  shuld  him  discrive, 
On  of  the  beste  faring  men  on  live, 
Yong,  strong,  and  virtuous,  and  riche,  and  wise, 
And  wel  beloved,  and  holden  in  gret  prise. 
And  shortly,  if  the  soth  I  tellen  shal, 
Unweting  of  this  Dorigene  at  al, 
This  lusty  squier,  servant  to  Venus,i 
Which  that  ycleped  was  Aurelius, 
Had  loved  hire  best  of  any  creature 
Two  yere  and  more,  as  was  his  aventure: 
But  never  dorst  he  tell  hire  his  grevance, 
Withouten  cup  he  dranke  all  his  penance. 
He  was  dispeired,  nothing  dorst  he  say, 
Sauf  in  his  songes  somwhat  wold  he  wray* 
His  wo,  as  in  a  general  complaining ; 
He  said,  he  loved,  and  was  beloved  nothing. 

1  In  my  opinion.  '  Betray. 


11259-11298.        THE  FRANKELEINES  TALE.  305 

Of  swiche  matere  made  he  many  layea, 
Songes,  complain  tea,  roundels,  virelayes; 
How  that  he  dorste  not  his  sorwe  telle, 
But  languisheth,  as  doth  a  furie1  in  helle ; 
And  die  he  must,  he  said,  as  did  Ecco 
For  Narcissus,  that  dorst  not  tell  hire  wo. 

In  other  maner  than  ye  here  me  say, 
Ne  dorst  he  not  to  hire  his  wo  bewray,3 
Sauf  that  paraventure  somtime  at  dances, 
Ther  yonge  folk  kepen  hir  observances, 
It  may  wel  be  he  loked  on  hire  face 
In  swiche  a  wise,  as  man  that  axeth  grace, 
But  nothing  wiste  she  of  his  entent. 
Natheles  it  happed,  or  they  thennes  went, 
Because  that  he  was  hire  neighebour, 
And  was  a  man  of  worship  and  honour, 
And  had  yknowen  him  of  time  yore, 
They  fell  in  speche,  and  forth  ay  more  and  more 
Unto  his  purpos  drow  Aurelius  ; 
And  whan  he  saw  his  time,  he  saide  thus. 
Madame,  quod  he,  by  God  that  this  world  made, 
So  that  I  wist  it  might  your  herte  glade, 
I  wold  that  day,  that  your  Arviragus 
Went  over  see,  that  I  Aurelius 
Had  went  ther  I  shuld  never  come  again ; 
For  wel  I  wot  my  service  is  in  vain, 
My  guerdon  n'is  but  bresting  of  min  herte. 
Madame,  rueth  upon  my  peines  smerte, 
For  with  a  word  ye  may  me  sleen  or  save. 
Here  at  your  feet  God  wold  that  I  were  grave.' 
I  ne  have  as  now  no  leiser  more  to  sev : 
Have  mercy,  swete,  or  ye  wol  do  me  dey. 

She  gan  to  loke  upon  Aurelius; 
Is  this  your  will  (quod  she)  and  say  ye  thus  ? 
Never  erst  (quod  she)  ne  wist  I  what  ye  ment: 
But  now,  Aurelie,  I  know  your  entent. 
By  thilke  God  that  yaf  me  soule  and  lif, 
Ne  shal  I  never  ben  an  untrewe  wif 
In  word  ne  werk,  as  fer  as  I  have  wit, 
I  wol  ben  his  to  whom  that  I  am  knit: 

i  Some  MSS.  read  "  fire."     Neither   word  gives  much  meaning. 
Should  it  be, "  as  doth  &fende  in  belle'? 

2  Discover.  8  Buried. 

26* 


306  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         11299-11340. 

Take  this  for  final  answer  as  of  me. 
But  after  that  in  play  thus  saide  she. 

Aurelie  (quod  she)  by  high  God  above 
Yet  wol  I  granten  you  to  ben  your  love, 
(Sin  I  you  see  so  pitously  complaine) 
Loke,  what  day  that  endelong  Bretaigne 
Ye  remue  all  the  rockes,  ston  by  ston, 
That  they  ne  letten1  ship  ne  bote  to  gon, 
I  say,  whan  ye  han  made  the  cost  so  clene 
Of  rockes,  that  ther  n'is  no  ston  ysene, 
Than  wol  I  love  you  best  of  any  man, 
Have  here  my  trouth,  in  all  that  ever  I  can ; 
For  wel  I  wote  that  it  shal  never  betide. 
Let  swiche  folie  out  of  your  herte  glide. 
What  deintee  shuld  a  man  have  in  his  lif 
For  to  go  love  another  mannes  wif, 
That  hath  hire  body  whan  that  ever  him  likethf 

Aurelius  ful  often  sore  siketh ; 
Is  ther  non  other  grace  in  you  ?  quod  he. 

No,  by  that  lord,  quod  she,  that  maked  me. 
"Wo  was  Aurelie  whan  that  he  this  herd, 
And  with  a  sorweful  herte  he  thus  answerd. 

Madame,  quod  he,  this  were  an  impossible. 
Than  moste  I  die  of  soden  deth  horrible. 
And  with  that  word  he  turned  him  anon. 

Tho  come  hire  other  frendes  many  on, 
And  in  the  alleyes  romed  up  and  doun, 
And  nothing  wist  of  this  conclusioun, 
But  sodenly  begonnen  revel  newe, 
Til  that  the  brighte  sonne  had  lost  his  hewe, 
For  the  orizont  had  reft  the  sonne  his  light; 
(This  is  as  much  to  sayn  as  it  was  night) 
And  home  they  gon  in  mirthe  and  in  solas ; 
Sauf  only  wrecche  Aurelius,  alas ! 
He  to  his  hous  is  gon  with  sorweful  herte. 
He  saith,  he  may  not  from  his  deth  asterte. 
Him  semeth,  that  he  felt  his  herte  cold. 
Up  to  the  heven  his  hondes  gan  he  hold, 
And  on  his  knees  bare  he  set  him  doun, 
And  in  his  raving  said  his  orisoun. 
For  veray  wo  out  of  his  wit  he  braide,2 
He  n'iste  what  he  spake,  but  thus  he  saide; 

1  Hinder.  3  Han  out  of  his  senses. 


11311-11383.        THE  FRANKELEINES  TALE.  307 

With  pitous  herte  his  plaint  hath  he  begonne 

Unto  the  goddes,  and  first  unto  the  sonne. 

He  said ;  Apollo,  God  and  governour 

Of  every  plante,  herbe,  tree,  and  flour, 

That  yevest  after  thy  declination 

To  eche  of  hem  his  time  and  his  seson, 

As  that  thin  herbergh1  changeth  low  and  hie; 

Lord  Phebus,  cast  thy  merciable  eie 

On  wrecche  Aurelie,  which  that  am  but  lorne. 

Lo,  lord,  my  lady  hath  my  deth  ysworne 

Withouten  gilt,  but  thy  benignitee 

Upon  my  dedly  herte  have  som  pitee. 

For  wel  I  wot,  lord  Phebus,  if  you  lest, 

Ye  may  me  helpen,  sauf  my  lady,  best. 

Now  voucheth  sauf,  that  I  may  you  devise 

How  that  I  may  be  holpe  and  in  what  wise. 

Your  blisful  suster,  Lucina  the  shene, 
That  of  the  see  is  chief  goddesse  and  quene, 
Though  Neptunus  have  deitee  in  the  see, 
Yet  emperice  aboven  him  is  she : 
Ye  knowe  wel,  lord,  that  right  as  hire  desire 
Is  to  be  quiked2  and  lighted  of  your  fire, 
For  which  she  folweth  you  ful  besily, 
Eight  so  the  sec  desireth  naturelly 
To  folwen  hire,  as  she  that  is  goddesse 
Both  in  the  see  and  rivers  more  and  lesse. 
Wherfore,  lord  Phebus,  this  is  my  request, 
Do  this  miracle,  or  do  min  herte  brest; 
That  now  next  at  this  opposition, 
Which  in  the  signe  shal  be  of  the  Leon, 
As  preyeth  hire3  so  gret  a  flood  to  bring, 
That  five  fadome  at  the  lest  it  overspring 
The  highest  rock  in  Armorike  Bretaigne, 
And  let  this  flood  enduren  yeres  twaine: 
Than  certes  to  my  lady  may  I  say, 
Holdeth  your  hest,  the  rockes  ben  away. 
Lord  Phebus,  this  miracle  doth  for  me, 
Prey  hire  she  go  no  faster  cours  than  ye ; 
I  say  this,  preyeth  your  suster  that  she  go 
No  faster  cours  than  ye  thise  yeres  two: 
Than  shal  she  ben  even  at  ful  alway, 
And  spring-flood  lasten  bothe  night  and  day. 

i  Lodging.  •  Quickened.  •  I  pray  yon. 


308  THE  CANTERBUBY  TALES.         11383-11424. 

And  but1  she  vouchesaui  in  swiche  manere 
To  graunten  me  my  soveraine  lady  dere, 
Prey  hire  to  sinken  every  rock  adoun 
Into  hire  owen  derke  regioun 
Under  the  ground,  ther  Pluto  dwelleth  in, 
Or  nevermo  shal  I  my  lady  win. 

Thy  temple  in  Delphos  wol  I  barefoot  seke. 
Lord  Phebus,  see  the  teres  on  my  cheke, 
And  on  my  peine  have  som  compassioun. 
And  with  that  word,  in  sorwe  he  fell  adoun, 
And  longe  time  he  lay  forth  in  a  trance. 
His  brother,  which  that  knew  of  his  penance,2 
Up  caught  him,  and  to  bed  he  hath  him  brought 
Dispeired  in  this  turment  and  this  thought 
Let  I  this  woful  creature  lie, 
Chese  he  for  me  whether  he  wol  live  or  die. 

Arviragus  with  hele3  and  gret  honour 
(As  he  that  was  of  chevalrie  the  flour) 
Is  comen  home,  and  other  worthy  men : 
O,  blisful  art  thou  now,  thou  Dorigen, 
That  hast  thy  lusty  husbond  in  thin  armes, 
The  freshe  knight,  the  worthy  man  oi  armes, 
That  loveth  thee,  as  his  owen  hertes  lif : 
Nothing  list  him  to  be  imaginatif, 
If  any  wight  had  spoke,  while  he  was  oute, 
To  hire  of  love ;  he  had  of  that  no  doute; 
He  not  entendeth  to  no  swiche  matere, 
But  danceth,  justeth,  and  maketh  mery  chere. 
And  thus  in  joye  and  blisse  I  let  hem  dwell, 
And  of  the  sike  Aurelius  wol  I  tell. 

In  langour  and  in  turment  furious 
Two  yere  and  more  lay  wrecche  Aurelius, 
Er  any  foot  on  erthe  he  mighte  gon; 
Ne  comfort  in  this  time  ne  had  he  non, 
Sauf  of  his  brother,  which  that  was  a  clerk. 
He  knew  of  all  this  wo  and  all  this  werk; 
For  to  non  other  creature  certain 
Of  this  matere  he  dorste  no  word  sain ; 
Under  his  brest  he  bare  it  more  secree, 
Than  ever  did  Pamphilus4  for  (ialathee. 
His  brest  was  hole  withouten  for  to  seen, 
But  in  his  herte  ay  was  the  arwe  kene, 
i  Unless.  2  Suffering.  3  Health. 

4  A  lover  in  some  Latin  poem  of  the  time. 


11425-11454..        TIIE  FRANKELEINES  TALE.  309 

And  wel  ye  knowe  that  ot  a  sursanure1 

In  surgerie  is  perilous  the  cure, 

But  men  might  touch  the  arwe  or  come  therhy. 

His  brother  wepeth  and  waileth  prively, 
Til  at  the  last  him  fell  in  remembrance, 
That  while  he  was  at  Orleaunce  in  France, 
As  youge  clerkes,  that  ben  likerous 
To  reden  artes  that  ben  curious, 
Seken  in  every  halke  and  every  heme* 
Particuler  sciences  for  to  lerne, 
He  him  remembred,  that  upon  a  day 
At  Orleaunce  in  studie  a  book  he  say 
Of  magike  naturel,  which  his  felaw, 
That  was  that  time  a  bacheler  of  law, 
Al  were  he  ther  to  lerne  another  craft, 
Had  prively  upon  his  desk  ylaft ; 
Which  book  spake  moche  of  operations 
Touching  the  eight  and  twenty  mansions 
That  longen  to  the  Mone,  and  swiche  folie 
As  in  our  dayes  n'is  not  worth  a  flie : 
For  holy  cherches  feith,  in  our  beleve, 
Ne  suffreth  non  illusion  us  to  greve. 
And  whan  this  book  was  in  his  remembrance, 
Anon  for  joye  his  herte  gan  to  dance, 
And  to  himself  he  saied  prively ; 
My  brother  shal  be  warished3  hastily : 
For  I  am  siker'  that  ther  be  sciences, 
By  which  men  maken  divers  apparences, 
Swiche  as  thise  subtil  tregetoures5  play. 
For  oft  at  festes  have  I  wel  herd  say, 
1  A  wound  healed  only  outwardly. 
8  /.  e.,  in  every  corner,  a  proverbial  expression. 
s  Cured.  *  Certain. 

s  In  the  time  of  Chancer,  the  persons  who  sang  and  played  were 
called,  generally.  Minstrels;  while  the  name  of  Jogelour  was,  in  a 
manner,  appropriated  to  those,  who,  by  sleight  of  hand  and  machines, 
pnnluced  such  illusions  of  the  senses  as  are  usually  supposed  to  be 
effected  by  enchantment :  see  above,  ver.  7049.  This  species  of  Jogelour 
is  here  called  a  Tregetour.  They  are  joined  together  in  company  with 
Magicians.     II.  of  V.  iii.  169. 

Ther  saw  I  playing  Jogelours, 
Magicieru  and  Tragetours, 
And  l'hitonesses,  Cliarmeresses— — » 
And  Clerkes  eke  which  conne  wel 
AH  this  magike  nature!!. 
See  also  the  following  ver.  187—191. 
If  we  compare  the  feats  of  the  Tregetoun,  as  described  in  this  passage. 


310  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  11455-11468. 

That  tregetoures,  within  an  halle  large, 
Have  made  come  in  a  water  and  a  barge, 
And  in  the  halle  rowen  up  and  doun. 
Somtime  hath  semed  come  a  grim  leoun, 
And  somtime  floures  spring  as  in  a  mede, 
Somtime  a  vine,  and  grapes  white  and  rede, 
.   Somtime  a  castel  al  of  lime  and  ston, 
And  whan  hem  liketh  voideth1  it  anon: 
Thus  semeth  it  to  every  mannes  sight. 

Now  than  conclude  I  thus,  if  that  I  might 
At  Orleaunce  som  olde  felaw  find, 
That  hath  thise  Mones  mansions  in  mind, 
Or  other  Magike  naturel  above, 
He  shuld  wel  make  my  brother  have  his  love. 


with  those  which  are  afterwards  performed  by  the  Clerkes  magike,  for 
the  entertainment  of  his  guests,  ver.  1 1501 — 11519,  we  shall  find  them 
very  similar ;  and  they  may  both  be  illustrated  by  the  following  account 
which  Sir  John  Mandevile  has  given  ot  the  exhibitions  before  the  Grete 
Chan.  "  And  than  comen  Jogulours  and  Enchatitoures,  that  don  many 
marvaylles:  for  they  maken  to  come  in  the  ayr  the  Sonne  and  the 
Hone,  be  seminge,  to  every  mannes  sight.  And  after  they  maken  the 
nyglit  so  derk,  that  no  man  may  see  no  thing.  And  aftre  they  maken 
the  day  to  come  ayen  fair  and  plesant  with  bright  Sonne  to  every 
mannes  sight.  And  than  they  bringen  in  dauncet  of  the  fayrest 
damyselles  of  the  world  and  richest  arrayed.  And  aftre  they  maken  to 
comen  in  other  damyselles,  bringinge  coupes  of  gold,  fulle  of  my  Ik  of 
dyverse  bestes,  and  yeven  drynke  to  lordes  and  to  ladyes.  And  than 
they  make  Knyghtet  tojotuten  in  armes  fulle  lustyly;  and  they  rennen 
togidre  a  gret  randoum ;  and  they  frusschen  togidere  fulle  fiercely ;  and 
they  breken  here  speres  so  rudely,  that  the  tronchouns  flen  in  sprotes 
and  peces  alle  aboute  the  Halle.  And  than  they  make  to  come  in 
huntyng  for  the  Hert  and  for  the  Boor,  with  houndes  renning  with  open 
mouthe.  And  many  other  thinges  they  don  be  craft  of  hir  enchaunte- 
ments,  that  it  is  marveyle  for  to  see.  And  suche  playes  of  desportthey 
make,  til  the  taking  up  of  the  boordes."  Aland.  Trav.  p.  2S5,  6.  See 
also  p.  261.  "  and  wher  it  be  by  craft  or  by  nygromancye,  I  wot  nere." 
The  Glossary  derives  Tregetour  from  the  Barb.  Lat.  Tricolor;  but 
the  derivatives  of  that  family  are  tricheur,  trichetie,  trick,  &c.  Nor  can 
I  find  the  word  Tregetour  in  any  language  but  our  own.  It  seems  clearly 
to  be  formed  from  treget,  which  is  frequently  used  by  Chaucer  for  deceit, 
imposture.  R.  R.  6267,  6312,  6825  ;  and  so  is  tregetry,  ibid.  6374,  63S2. 
From  whence  treget  itself  may  have  been  derived  is  more  difficult  to  say; 
but  I  observe,  that  trebuchet,  the  French  name  for  a  military  engine,  is 
called  by  Chaucer  trepeget,  R.  R.  6279,  and  by  Knighton,  2672,  trepget} 
and  that  this  same  word  trebuchet,  in  French,  signified  also  a  machine 
for  catching  birds.  Du  Cange,  in  v.  Trepget. — TyrwhiU. 
1  Departs,  disappears. 


11469-11510.        THE  FRANKELEINES  TALE.  311 

For  with  an  apparence  a  clerk  may  make 
To  mannes  sight,  that  all  the  rockes  blaka 
Of  Bretaigne  were  yvoided  everich  on, 
And  shippea  by  the  brinke  comen  and  gon, 
And  in  swicne  forme  endure  a  day  or  two : 
Than  were  my  brother  warished  of  his  wo, 
Than  must  she  nedes  holden  hire  behest, 
Or  elles  he  shal  shame  hire  at  the  lest. 

What  shuld  I  make  a  lenger  tale  of  this  1 
Unto  his  brothers  bed  he  comen  is, 
And  swiche  comfort  he  yaf  him,  for  to  gon 
To  Orleaunce,  that  he  up  stert  anon, 
And  on  his  way  forthward  than  is  he  fare, 
In  hope  for  to  ben  lissed1  of  his  care. 

Whan  they  were  come  almost  to  that  citee, 
But  if  it  were  a  two  furlong  or  three, 
A  yonge  clerk  roming  by  himself  they  mette 
Which  that  in  Latine  thriftily  hem  grette. 
And  after  that  he  sayd  a  wonder  thing ; 
I  know,  quod  he,  the  cause  of  your  coming: 
And  or  they  forther  any  foote  went, 
He  told  hem  all  that  was  in  hir  entent. 

This  Breton  clerk  him  axed  of  felawes, 
The  which  he  had  yknowen  in  olde  dawes, 
And  he  answered  him  that  they  dede  were, 
For  which  he  wept  ful  often  many  a  tere. 

Doun  of  his  hors  Aurelius  light  anon, 
And  forth  with  this  magicien  is  gon 
Home  to  his  hous,  and  made  hem  wel  at  ese: 
Hem  lacked  no  vitaille  that  might  hem  plese. 
So  wel  arraied  hous  as  ther  was  on, 
Aurelius  in  his  lif  saw  never  non. 

He  shewed  him,  or  they  went  to  soupere, 
Forestes,  parkes  ful  of  wilde  dere. 
Ther  saw  he  hartes  with  hir  homes  hie, 
The  gretest  that  were  ever  seen  with  eie. 
He  saw  of  hem  an  hundred  slain  with  houndes, 
And  som  with  arwes  blede  of  bitter  woundes. 
He  saw,  whan  Voided  were  the  wilde  dere, 
Thise  fauconers  upon  a  faire  rivere, 
That  with  hir  haukes  han  the  heron  slain. 

Tho  saw  he  knightes  justen  in  a  plain. 

1  Eased. 


312  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES.  11511-11553. 

And  after  this  he  did  him  swiche  plesance, 

That  he  him  shewed  his  lady  on  a  dance, 

On  which  himselven  danced,  as  him  thought. 

And  whan  this  maister,  that  this  magike  wrought, 

Saw  it  was  time,  he  clapped  his  hondes  two, 

And  farewel,  al  the  revel  is  ago. 

And  yet  remued  they  never  out  of  the  hous, 

While  they  saw  all  thise  sightes  merveillous; 

But  in  his  studie,  ther  his  hookes  be, 

They  saten  still,  and  no  wight  but  they  three. 

To  him  this  maister  called  his  squier, 
And  sayd  him  thus,  may  we  go  to  souper  ? 
Almost  an  houre  it  is,  I  undertake, 
Sin  I  you  bade  our  souper  lor  to  make, 
Whan  that  thise  worthy  men  wenten  with  me 
Into  my  studie,  ther  my  bookes  be. 

Sire,  quod  this  squier,  whan  it  liketh  you, 
It  is  al  redy,  though  ye  wol  right  now. 

Go  we  than  soupe,  quod  he,  as  for  the  best, 
Thise  amorous  folk  somtime  moste  ban  rest. 

At  after  souper  fell  they  in  tretee 
What  summe  shuld  this  maisters  guerdon  be, 
To  remue  all  the  rockes  of  Bretaigne, 
And  eke  from  Gerounde  to  the  mouth  of  Saine. 

He  made  it  strange,  and  swore,  so  God  him  save, 
Lesse  than  a  thousand  pound  he  wold  not  have, 
Ne  gladly  for  that  summe  he  wold  not  gon. 

Aurelius  with  blisful  herte  anon 
Answered  thus;  fie  on  a  thousand  pound: 
This  wide  world,  which  that  men  sayn  is  round, 
I  wold  it  yeve,  if  I  were  lord  of  it. 
This  bargaine  is  ful-drive,  for  we  ben  knit ; 
Ye  shul  be  paied  trewely  by  my  trouth. 
But  loketh,  for  non  negligence  or  slouth, 
Ye  tarie1  us  here  no  lenger  than  to  morwe. 
Nay,  quod  this  clerk,  have  here  my  faith  to  borwe. 

To  bed  is  gon  Aurelius  whan  him  lest, 
And  wel  nigh  all  that  night  he  had  his  rest, 
What  for  his  labour,  and  his  hope  of  blisse, 
His  woful  herte  of  penance  had  a  lisse. 

Upon  the  morwe  whan  that  it  was  day, 
To  Bretaigne  token  they  the  righte  way, 

i  Detain. 


11553-11586,        THE  FItANKELEINES  TALE.  313 

Aurelie,  and  this  magicien  him  beside, 
And  ben  descended  ther  they  wold  abide : 
And  this  was,  as  the  bookes  me  remember, 
The  colde  frosty  seson  of  December. 

Phebus  waxe  old,  and  hewed  like  laton,1 
That  in  his  hote  declination 
Shone  as  the  burned  gold,  with  stremes  bright 
But  now  in  Capricorne  adoun  he  light, 
Wher  as  he  shone  ful  pale,  I  dare  wel  sain.  ■ 
The  bitter  frostes  with  the  sleet  and  rain 
Destroyed  han  the  grene  in  every  yerd. 
Janus  sit  by  the  fire  with  double  bevd, 
And  drinketh  of  his  bugle  horn  the  wine : 
Beforn  him  stant  braune2  of  the  tusked  swine, 
And  nowel3  crieth  every  lusty  man. 

Aurelius  in  all  that  ever  he  can, 
Doth  to  his  maister  chere  and  reverence, 
And  praieth  him  to  don  his  diligence 
To  bringen  him  out  of  his  peines  smerte, 
Or  with  a  swerd  that  he  wold  slit  his  herte. 

This  sotil  clerk  swiche  routh  hath  on  this  man, 
That  night  and  day  he  spedeth  him,  that  he  can, 
To  wait  a  time  of  his  conclusion ; 
This  is  to  sayn,  to  make  illusion, 
By  swiche  an  apparence  or  joglerie, 
(I  can  no  termes  of  Astrologie) 
That  she  and  every  wight  shuld  wene  and  say, 
That  of  Bretaigne  the  rockes  were  away, 
Or  elles  they  were  sonken  under  ground. 
So  at  the  last  he  hath  his  time  yfound 
To  make  his  japes  and  his  wretchedness© 
Of  swiche  a  superstitious  cursednesse. 
His  tables  Toletanes4  forth  he  brought 
Ful  wel  corrected,  that  ther  lacked  nought, 

1  Was  of  a  brass-like  colour.  3  Brawn. 

3  Noel  1  derived  from  the  Latin  Natalit,  a  usual  cry  upon  occasions  of 
festivity  and  rejoicing. 

4  The  Astronomical  Tables,  composed  by  order  of  Alplionso  X., 
king  of  Castile,  about  the  middle  of  the  xmth  Century,  were  oalled  some- 
times Tabula  Tulelauce,  from  their  being  adapted  to  the  city  of  Toledo. 
There  is  a  very  elegant  copy  of  them  in  MS.  Hurl.  3647.  I  am  not 
sufficiently  skilled  in  the  ancient  Astronomy  to  add  anything  to  the 
explanation  of  the  following  technical  terms,  drawn  chiefly  from  those 
tables,  which  has  been  given  in  the  Addit.  to  Gloss.  Urr.  v.  Ex pan a 
Yeres,  p.  81,  as  follows:— 

?7 


314  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         11687-11616. 

Nother  his  collect,  ne  his  expans  yeres, 
Nother  his  rotes,  ne  his  other  geres, 
As  ben  his  centres,  and  his  argumentes, 
And  his  proportionel  convenientes 
For  his  equations  in  every  thing. 
And  by  his  eighte  speres  in  his  werking, 
He  knew  ful  wel  how  fer  Alnath1  was  shove 
Fro  the  hed  of  thilke  fix  Aries  above, 
That  in  the  ninthe  spere  considered  is. 
Ful  sotilly  he  calculed  all  this. 
Whan  he  had  found  his  firste  mansion, 
He  knew  the  remenant  by  proportion; 
And  knew  the  rising  of  his  mone  weL 
And  in  whos  face,  and  terme,  and  every  del ; 
And  knew  ful  wel  the  mones  mansion 
Accordant  to  his  operation ; 
And  knew  also  his  other  observances, 
For  swiche  illusions  and  swiche  meschances, 
As  hethen  folk  used  in  thilke  daies. 
For  which  no  lenger  maketh  he  delaies, 
But  thurgh  his  magike,  for  a  day  or  tway, 
It  semed  all  the  rockes  were  away. 
Aurelius,  which  that  despeired  is, 
Whether  he  shal  han  his  love,  or  fare  amis, 
Awaiteth  night  and  day  on  this  miracle : 
And  whan  he  knew  that  ther  was  non  obstacle, 
That  voided  were  thise  rockes  everich  on, 
Doun  to  his  maisters  feet  he  fell  anon, 
And  sayd ;  I  woful  wretch  Aurelius, 
Thanke  you,  my  lord,  and  lady  min  Venus, 

"In  this  and  the  following  verses,  the  poet  describes  the  Alphonsine 
Astronomical  tables  by  the  several  parts  of  them,  wherein  some  techni- 
cal terms  occur,  which  were  used  by  the  old  astronomers,  and  continued 
by  the  compilers  of  those  tables.  Collect  years  are  certain  sums  of 
years,  with  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  corresponding  to  them, 
as  of  20,  40,  60,  &c,  disposed  into  tables;  and  Expam  years  are  the 
single  years,  with  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  answering  to 
them,  beginning  at  1,  and  continued  on  to  the  smallest  Collect  sum,  as 
20,  &c.  A  Root,  or  Radix,  is  any  certain  time  taken  at  pleasure,  from 
which,  as  an  era,  the  celestial  motions  are  to  be  computed.  By  propor- 
tionel convenientet  are  meant  the  tables  of  proj.  i  tional  parts."  Gloss. 
Ur.  "Argument  in  astronomy  is  an  arch  whereby  we  seek  another 
unknown  arch  proportional  to  the  first." — Chambers.  Tyrwhitt. 

1  The  first  star  in  the  horns  of  Aries,  whence  the  first  mansion  of  the 
moon  takes  its  name. 


11617-11658.        THE  FRANKELEINES  TALE.  315 

That  me  han  holpen  fro  my  cares  cold. 
And  to  the  temple  his  way  forth  hath  he  hold, 
Theras  he  knew  he  shuld  his  lady  see. 
And  whan  he  saw  his  time,  anon  right  he 
With  dredful1  herte  and  with  ful  humble  chere 
Salued  hath  his  soveraine  lady  dere. 

My  rightful  lady,  quod  this  woful  man, 
Whom  I  most  drede,  and  love,  as  I  best  can, 
And  lothest  were2  of  all  this  world  displese, 
N'ere  it  that  I  for  you  have  swiche  disese, 
That  I  must  die  here  at  your  foot  anon, 
Nought  wold  I  tell  how  me  is  wo  begou. 
But  certes  other  must  I  die  or  plaine ; 
Ye  sle  me  gilteles  for  veray  peine. 
But  of  my  deth  though  that  ye  han  no  routh, 
Aviseth  you,  or  that  ye  breke  your  trouth : 
Bepenteth  you  for  thilke  God  above, 
Or  ye  me  sle,  because  that  I  you  love. 
For,  madame,  wel  ye  wote  what  ye  have  hight; 
Not  that  I  chalenge  any  thing  of  right 
Of  you,  my  soveraine  lady,  but  of  grace ; 
But  in  a  gardin  yond,  in  swiche  a  place, 
Ye  wote  right  wel  what  ye  behighten  me, 
And  in  myn  hond  your  trouthe  plighten  ye, 
To  love  me  best ;  God  wote  ye  saied  so, 
Although  that  I  unworthy  be  therto ; 
Madame,  I  speke  it  for  the  honour  of  you, 
More  than  to  save  my  hertes  lif  right  now : 
I  have  don  so  as  ye  commanded  me, 
And  if  ye  vouchesauf,  ye  may  go  see. 
Doth  as  you  list,  have  your  behest  in  mind, 
For  quick  or  ded,  right  ther  ye  shul  me  find: 
In  you  lith  all  to  do  me  live  or  dey, 
But  wel  I  wote  the  rockes  ben  awey. 

He  taketh  his  leve,  and  she  astonied  stood; 
In  all  hire  face  n'as  o  drope  of  blood : 
She  wened  never  han  come  in  swiche  a  trappe. 

Alas  !  quod  she,  that  ever  this  shuld  happe ! 
For  wend  I  never  by  possibilitee, 
That  swiche  a  monstre  or  mervaille  might  be ; 
It  is  again  the  processe  of  nature. 
And  home  she  goth  a  sorweful  creature, 

1  Doubtful.  >  Least  willingly  would. 


316  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  11659-11700. 

For  veray  fere  unnethes  may  she  go. 
She  wepeth,  waileth  all  a  day  or  two, 
And  swouneth,  that  it  routhe  was  to  see: 
But  why  it  was,  to  no  wight  tolde  she, 
For  out  of  toun  was  gon  Arviragus. 
But  to  hireself  she  spake,  and  saied  thus, 
With  face  pale,  and  with  ful  sory  chere, 
In  hire  complaint,  as  ye  shul  after  here. 

Alas  !  quod  she,  on  thee,  fortune,  I  plain,1 
That  unware  hast  me  wrapped  in  thy  chain: 
Fro  which  to  escapen,  wote2  I  no  soccour, 
Sauf  only  deth,  or  elles  dishonour: 
On  of  thise  two  behoveth  me  to  chese. 
But  natheles,  yet  had  I  lever  lese 
My  lif,  than  of  my  body  have  a  shame, 
Or  know  myselven  false,  or  lese  my  name; 
And  with  my  deth  I  may  be  quit  ywis.3 
Hath  ther  not  many  a  noble  wif  or  this, 
And  many  a  maid  yslaine  hireself,  alas ! 
Bather  than  with  hire  body  don  trespas  ? 
Yes  certes ;  lo,  thise  stories  bere  witnesse.4 

Whan  thirty  tyrants  ful  of  cursednesse 
Had  slain  Phidon  in  Athens  at  the  fest, 
They  commanded  his  doughtren  for  to  arrest, 
And  bringen  hem  beforne  hem  in  despit 
Al  naked,  to  fulfill  hir  foule  delit ; 
And  in  hir  fadres  blood  they  made  hem  dance 
Upon  the  pavement,  God  yeve  hem  meschance. 
For  which  thise  woful  maidens  ful  of  drede, 
Rather  than  they  wold  lese  hir  maidenhede, 
They  prively  ben  stert  into  a  welle, 
And  dreint  hemselven,  as  the  bookes  telle. 

They  of  Messene  let  enquere  and  seke 
Of  Lacedomie  fifty  maidens  eke, 
On  which  they  wolden  don  hir  lecherie: 
But  ther  was  non  of  all  that  compagnie 
That  she  n'as  slaine,  and  with  a  glad  entent 
Chees  rather  for  to  dien,  than  assent 
To  ben  oppressed  of  hir  maidenhede. 
Why  shuld  I  than  to  dien  ben  in  drede  ? 

Lo  eke  the  tyrant  Aristoclides, 
That  loved  a  maid  hight  Stimphalides, 

»  Lament.  ■  Know.  3  Certainty. 

4  They  are  taken  from  Hieronymus  contra  Jovin.  1.  39. — Tyrirhitt. 


11701-11742.        THE  FRANKELEINES  TALE.  317 

Whan  that  hire  father  slaine  was  on  a  night, 
Unto  Dianes  temple  goth  she  right, 
And  hente1  the  image  in  hire  handes  two, 
Fro  which  image  wold  she  never  go, 
No  wight  hire  handes  might  of  it  arrace,' 
Til  she  was  slaine  right  in  the  selve  place. 

Now  sin  that  maidens  hadden  swiche  despit 
To  be  defouled  with  mannes  foule  delit, 
Wei  ought  a  wif  rather  hireselven  sle, 
Than  be  defouled,  as  it  thinketh  me. 

What  shal  I  sayn  of  Hasdrubales  wif, 
That  at  Cartage  beraft  hireself  hire  lif  ? 
For  whan  she  saw  that  Eomains  wan  the  toun, 
She  toke  hire  children  all,  and  skipt  adoun 
Into  the  fire,  and  chees  rather  to  die, 
Than  any  Romain  did  hire  vilanie. 

Hath  not  Lucrece  yslaine  hireself,  alas  ! 
At  Rome,  whan  that  she  oppressed  was 
Of  Tarquine  1  for  hire  thought  it  was  a  shame 
To  liven,  whan  she  hadde  lost  hire  name. 

The  seven  maidens  of  Milesie  also 
Han  slaine  hemself  for  veray  drede  and  wo, 
Rather  than  folk  of  Gaule  hem  shuld  oppresse. 

Mo  than  a  thousand  stories,  as  I  gesse, 
Coude  I  now  tell  as  touching  this  matere. 

Whan  Abradate  was  slain,  his  wif  so  dere 
Hireselven  slow,  and  let  hire  blood  to  glide 
In  Abradates  woundes,  depe  and  wide, 
And  sayd,  my  body  at  the  leste  way 
Ther  shal  no  wight  defoulen,  if  I  may. 

What  shuld  I  mo  ensamples  hereof  sain? 
Sin  that  so  many  han  hemselven  slain 
Wei  rather  than  they  wold  defouled  be, 
I  wol  conclude  that  it  is  bet  for  me 
To  sle  myself  than  be  defouled  thus. 
I  wol  be  trewe  unto  Arviragus, 
Or  elles  sle  myself  in  some  manere, 
As  did  Demotiones  doughter  dere, 
Because  she  wolde  not  defouled  be. 

O  Sedasus,  it  is  ful  gret  pitee 
To  reden  how  thy  doughtren  died,  alas! 
That  slowe  hemselven  lor  swiche  maner  cas. 

1  Took,  seized.  Tear  away. 

27* 


318  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         11743-11786. 

As  gret  a  pitee  was  it  or  wel  more,'; 
The  Theban  maiden,  that  for  Nichanore 
Hireselven  slow,  right  for  swiche  manere  wo. 
Another  Theban  mayden  did  right  so, 
For  on  of  Macedoine  had  hire  oppressed, 
She  with  hire  deth  hire  maidenhed  redressed. 

What  shal  I  sain  of  Nicerates  wif, 
That  for  swiche  cas  beraft  hireself  hire  lif  1 

How  trewe  was  eke  to  Alcibiades 
His  love,  that  for  to  dien  rather  chees, 
Than  for  to  suflFre  his  body  unburied  be? 

Lo,  which  a  wif  was  Alceste  eke  1  (quod  she) 
What  sayth  Homere  of  good  Penelope? 
All  Grece  knoweth  of  hire  chastitee. 

Parde  of  Laodomia  is  written  thus, 
That  whan  at  Troye  was  slain  Prothesilaus, 
No  lenger  wolde  she  live  after  his  day. 

The  same  of  noble  Portia  tell  I  may; 
Withouten  Brutus  coude  she  not  live, 
To  whom  she  had  all  hoi  hire  herte  yeve. 

The  parfit  wif  hood  of  Artemisie 
Honoured  is  thurghout  all  Barbarie. 

O  Teuta  quene,  thy  wifly  chastitee 
To  alle  wives  may  a  mirrour  be. 

Thus  plained  Dorigene  a  day  or  twey, 
Purposing  ever  that  she  wolde  dey ; 
But  natheles  upon  the  thridde  night 
Home  came  Arviragus,  the  worthy  knight, 
And  axed  hire  why  that  she  weep  so  sore : 
And  she  gan  wepen  ever  lenger  the  more. 

Alas,  quod  she,  that  ever  I  was  yborne ! 
Thus  have  I  said,  (quod  she)  thus  have  I  sworne. 
And  told  him  all,  as  ye  have  herd  before : 
It  nedeth  not  reherse  it  you  no  more. 

This  husbond  with  glad  chere  in  frendly  wise 
Answerd  and  sayd,  as  I  shal  you  devise. 
Is  ther  ought  elles,  Dorigene,  but  this  ? 

Nay,  nay,  quod  she,  God  helpe  me  so,  as  wis 
This  is  to  much,  and  it  were  Goddes  will. 

Ye,  wif,  quod  he,  let  slepen  that  is  still, 
It  may  be  wel  para  venture  yet  to-day. 
Ye  shal  your  trouthe  holden  by  my  fay. 
For  God  so  wisly  have  mercy  on  me, 
I  had  wel  lever  stiked  for  to  be, 


11787-11828.        THE  FBANKELEINES  TALE.  319 

For  veray  love  which  that  I  to  you  have, 
But  if  ye  shuld  your  trouthe  kepe  and  save. 
Trouth  is  the  hiest  thing  that  man  may  kepe. 
But  with  that  word  he  brast  anon  to  wepe, 
And  sayd ;  I  you  lorbede  on  peine  of  deth, 
That  never  while  you  lasteth  lif  or  breth, 
To  no  wight  tell  ye  this  misa venture. 
As  I  may  best  I  wol  my  wo  endure. 
Ne  make  no  contenance  of  hevinesse, 
That  folk  of  you  may  demen  liar  me  or  gesse. 
And  forth  he  cleped  a  squier  and  a  maid. 
Goth  forth  anon  with  Dorigene,  he  said, 
And  bringeth  hire  to  swiche  a  place  anon. 
They  take  hir  leve,  and  on  hir  way  they  gon: 
But  they  ne  wisten  why  she  thider  went, 
She  n'olde  no  wight  tellen  hire  entent. 

This  squier,  which  that  highte  Aurelius, 
On  Dorigene  that  was  so  amorous, 
Of  aventure  happed  hire  to  mete 
Amid  the  toun,  right  in  the  quikkest  strete, 
As  she  was  boun1  to  go  the  way  forthright 
Toward  the  gardin,  ther  as  she  had  hight. 
And  he  was  to  the  gardin  ward  also ; 
For  wel  he  spied  whan  she  wolde  go 
Out  of  hire  hous,  to  any  maner  place: 
But  thus  they  met  of  aventure  or  grace, 
And  he  salueth  hire  with  glad  entent, 
And  axeth  of  hire  whiderward  she  went. 

And  she  answered,  half  as  she  were  mad, 
Unto  the  gardin,  as  mvn  husbond  bad, 
My  trouthe  for  to  hold,  alas !  alas ! 

Aurelius  gan  wondren  on  this  cas, 
And  in  his  herte  had  gret  compassion 
Of  hire,  and  of  hire  lamentation, 
And  of  Arviragus  the  worthy  knight, 
That  bad  hire  holden  all  that  she  had  hight, 
So  loth  him  was  his  wif  shuld  breke  hire  trouthe. 
And  in  his  herte  he  caught  of  it  gret  routhe, 
Considering  the  best  on  every  side, 
That  fro  his  lust  yet  were  him  lever  abide, 
Than  do  so  high  a  cherlish  wretchednesse 
Ageins  fraunchise,2  and  alle  gentillesse ; 

>  Beady.  *  Frankness. 


320  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         11820-11872. 

For  -which  in  fewe  wordes  sayd  he  thus. 

Madame,  say  to  your  lord  Arviragus, 
That  sin  I  see  the  grete  gentillesse 
Of  him,  and  eke  I  see  wel  your  distresse, 
That  him  were  lever  have  shame  (and  that  were  routhe^ 
Than  ye  to  me  shuld  breken  thus  your  trouthe, 
I  hadde  wel  lever  ever  to  suffren  wo, 
Than  to  depart  the  love  betwix  you  two. 
I  you  relese,  madame,  into  your  hond 
Quit  every  seurement  and  every  bond, 
That  ye  han  made  to  me,  as  herebeforne, 
Sin  thilke  time  that  ye  were  yborne. 
Have  here  my  trouthe,  I  shal  you  never  repreve 
Of  no  behest,  and  here  I  take  my  leve, 
As  of  the  trewest  and  the  beste  wit^ 
That  ever  yet  I  knew  in  all  my  lif. 
But  every  wif  beware  of  hire  behest ; 
On  Dorigene  remembreth  at  the  lest. 
Thus  can  a  squier  don  a  gentil  dede, 
As  wel  as  can  a  knight,  withouten  drede. 

She  thanketh  him  upon  hire  knees  bare. 
And  home  unto  hire  husbond  is  she  fare, 
And  told  him  all,  as  ye  han  herd  me  sayd : 
And,  trusteth  me,  he  was  so  wel  apayd, 
That  it  were  impossible  me  to  write. 

What  shuld  I  lenger  of  this  cas  endite  ? 
Arviragus  and  Dorigene  his  wif 
In  soveraine  blisse  leden  forth  hir  lif, 
Never  eft  ne  was  ther  anger  hem  betwene ; 
He  cherished  hire  as  though  she  were  a  quene, 
And  she  was  to  him  trewe  for  evermore : 
Of  thise  two  folk  ye  get  of  me  no  more. 

Aurelius,  that  his  cost  hath  all  forlorne, 
Curseth  the  time,  that  ever  he  was  borne. 
Alas  !  quod  he,  alas  that  I  behight 
Of  pured  gold  a  thousand  pound  of  wight 
"Unto  this  philosophre  !  how  shal  I  do  ? 
I  see  no  more,  but  that  I  am  fordo. 
Min  heritage  mote  I  nedes  sell, 
And  ben  a  begger,  here  I  n'ill  not  dwell, 
And  shamen  all  my  kinrede  in  this  place, 
But  I  of  him  may  geten  better  grace. 
But  natheles  I  wol  of  him  assay 
At  certain  daies  yere  by  yere  to  pay, 


1873-11916.        THE   FRANKELEIKES   TALE.  321 

And  thanke  him  of  his  grete  curtesie. 
My  trouthe  wol  I  kepe,  I  wol  not  lie. 

With  herte  sore  he  goth  unto  his  cofre, 
And  broughte  gold  unto  this  philosophre, 
The  value  of  five  hundred  pound  I  gesse, 
And  him  besecheth  of  his  gentillesse 
To  graunt  him  daies  of  the  remenaunt, 
And  sayde ;  maister,  I  dare  wel  make  a  vaunt, 
I  failled  never  of  my  trouthe  as  yet. 
For  sikerly  my  dette  shal  be  quit 
Towardes  you,  how  so  that  ever  I  fare 
To  gon  a  begging  in  my  kirtle  bare : 
But  wold  ye  vouchen  sauf  upon  seurtee 
Two  yere  or  three  for  to  respiten  me, 
Than  were  I  wel,  for  elles  mote  I  sell, 
Min  heritage,  ther  is  no  more  to  telL 

This  Philosophre  sobrely  answerd, 
And  saied  thus,  whan  he  thise  wordes  herd; 
Have  I  not  holden  covenant  to  thee  ? 

Yes  certes,  wel  and  trewely,  quod  he. 
Hast  thou  not  had  thy  lady  as  thee  liketh  ? 

No,  no,  quod  he,  and  sorwefully  he  siketh. 
What  was  the  cause  ?  tell  me  if  thou  can. 

Aurelius  his  tale  anon  began, 
And  told  him  all  as  ye  han  nerd  before, 
It  nedeth  not  reherse  it  any  more. 
He  sayd,  Arviragus  of  gentillesse 
Had  lever  die  in  sorwe  and  in  distresse, 
Than  that  his  wif  were  of  hire  trouthe  fals. 
The  sorwe  of  Dorigene  he  told  him  als, 
How  loth  hire  was  to  ben  a  wicked  wif, 
And  that  she  lever  had  lost  that  day  hire  lif ; 
And  that  her  trouth  she  swore  thurgh  innocence ; 
She  never  erst  hadde  herd  speke  of  apparence: 
That  made  me  han  of  hire  so  gret  pitee, 
And  right  as  freely  as  he  sent  hire  to  me, 
As  freely  sent  I  hire  to  him  again : 
This  is  all  and  som,  ther  n'is  no  more  to  sain. 

The  Philosophre  answerd ;  leve  brother, 
Everich  of  you  did  gentilly  to  other: 
Thou  art  a  squier,  and  he  is  a  knight, 
But  God  forbede  to  his  blisful  might, 
But  if  a  clerk  coud  don  a  gentil  dede 
As  wel  as  any  of  you,  it  is  no  drede. 


322  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         11917-11928. 

Sire,  I  relese  thee  thy  thousand  pound, 
As  thou  right  now  were  crope1  out  of  the  ground, 
Ne  never  er  now  ne  haddest  knowen  me 
For,  sire,  I  wol  not  take  a  peny  of  thee 
For  all  my  craft,  ne  nought  for  my  travaille: 
Thou  hast  ypaied  wel  for  my  vitaille. 
It  is  ynough,  and  farewel,  have  good  day. 
And  toke  his  hors,  and  forth  he  goth  his  way. 

Lordings,  this  question  wold  I  axen  now, 
Which  was  the  moste  free,  as  thinketh  you  ? 
Now  telleth  me,  or  that  ye  further  wende. 
I  can  no  more,  my  tale  is  at  an  ende. 

Hftd  just  crept. 


323 
THE  DOCTOURES  PROLOGUE. 

11929-11954. 

Ye,  let  that  passen,  quod  oure  Hoste,  as  now. 
Sire  Doctour  of  Physike,  I  prey  you, 
Tell  us  a  tale  of  som  honest  matere. 

It  shal  he  don,  if  that  ye  wol  it  here, 
Said  this  doctour,  and  his  tale  began  anon. 
Now,  good  men,  quod  he,  herkeneth  everich  on. 


SJi  $uttwm  8 lit 

Ther  was,  as  telleth  Titus  Livius,' 
A  knight,  that  cleped  was  Virginius, 
Fulfilled  of  honour  and  worthinesse, 
And  stroug  of  frendes,  and  of  gret  richesse. 
This  knight  a  doughter  hadde  by  his  wi£ 
No  children  had  he  mo  in  all  his  lif. 
Faire  was  this  maid  in  excellent  beauteo 
Aboven  every  wight  that  man  may  see: 
For  nature  hath  with  soveraine  diligence 
Yformed  hire  in  so  gret  excellence, 
As  though  she  wolde  sayn,  lo,  I  nature, 
Thus  can  I  forme  and  peint  a  creature, 
Whan  that  me  list;  who  can  me  contrefete  ? 
Pigmalion  ?  not,  though  he  ay  forge  and  bete 
Or  grave,  or  peinte:  for  I  dare  wel  sain, 
Apelles,  Xeuxis,  shulden  werche  in  vain, 
Other  to  grave,  or  peinte,  or  forge,  or  bete. 
If  they  presumed  me  to  contrefete. 
For  he  that  is  the  former  principal, 
Hath  maked  me  his  vicaire  general 


321  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES.  11955-11996. 

To  forme  and  peinten  erthly  creatures 

Eight  as  me  list,  and  eche  thing  in  my  cure  is 

Under  the  mone,  that  may  wane  and  waxe. 

And  for  my  werk  right  nothing  wol  I  axe  j 

My  lord  and  I  ben  ful  of  on  accord. 

I  made  hire  to  the  worship  of  my  lord ; 

So  do  I  all  min  other  creatures, 

What  colour  that  they  han,  or  what  figures. 

Thus  semeth  me  that  nature  wolde  say. 

This  maid  of  age  twelf  yere  was  and  tway, 
In  which  that  nature  hadde  swiche  delit. 
For  right  as  she  can  peint  a  lily  whit 
And  red  a  rose,  right  with  swiche  peinture 
She  peinted  hath  this  noble  creature 
Er  she  was  borne,  upon  hire  limmes  free, 
Wheras  by  right  swiche  colours  shuldenbe: 
And  Ehebus  died  hath  hire  tresses  grete, 
Like  to  the  stremes  of  his  burned  hete. 
And  if  that  excellent  were  hire  beautee, 
A  thousand  fold  more  vertuoua  was  she. 
In  hire  ne  lacked  no  condition, 
That  is  to  preise,  as  by  discretion. 
As  wel  in  gost  as  body,  chast  was  she : 
For  which  she  floured  in  virginitee, 
With  all  humilitee  and  abstinence, 
With  all  attemperance  and  patience, 
With  mesure  eke,  of  bering  and  array. 
Discrete  she  was  in  answering  alway, 
Though  she  were  wise  as  Eallas,  dare  I  sain, 
Hire  facounde1  eke  ful  womanly  and  plain, 
No  contrefeted  termes  hadde  she 
To  semen  wise ;  but  after  hire  degree 
She  spake,  and  all  hire  wordes  more  and  lesse 
Souniug  in  vertue  and  in  gentillesse. 
Shamefast  she  was  in  maidens  shamefastnesse, 
Constant  in  herte,  and  ever  in  besinesse 
To  drive  hire  out  of  idel  slogardie: 
Bacchus  had  of  hire  mouth  right  no  maistrie. 
For  wine'and  youthe2  don  Venus  encrese, 
As  men  in  fire  wol  casten  oile  and  grese. 
And  of  hire  owen  vertue  unconstreined, 
She  hath  hireself  ful  often  sike  yfeined, 

*  Eloquence,  manner  of  speech. 

8  Tyrwhitt  would  read  "  slouthe,"  •'.  *.,  sloth. 


11097-12038.  THE  DOCTOURES  TALE.  325 

For  that  she  wolde  fleen  the  compagnie, 
Wher  likely  was  to  treten  of  folie, 
As  is  at  festes,  at  revels,  and  at  dances, 
That  ben  occasions  of  daliances. 
Swiche  thinges  maken  children  for  to  be 
To  sone  ripe  and  bold,  as  men  may  see, 
Which  is  ful  perilous,  and  hath  ben  yore; 
For  al  to  sone  may  she  lernen  lore 
Of  boldnesse,  whan  she  woxen  is  a  wif. 

And  ye  maistresses  in  your  olde  lif, 
That  lordes  doughters  han  in  governance, 
Ne  taketh  of  my  wordes  displesance : 
Thinketh  that  ye  ben  set  in  governinges 
Of  lordes  doughters,  only  for  two  thinges; 
Other  for  ye  han  kept  your  honestee, 
Or  elles  for  ye  han  fallen  in  freeltee, 
And  knowen  wel  ynough  the  olde  dance, 
And  han  forsaken  fully  swiche  meschance 
For  evermo :  therfore  for  Cristes  sake 
To  teche  hem  vertue  loke  that  ye  ne  slake. 

A  theef  of  venison,  that  hath  forlaft 
His  likerousnesse,  and  all  his  olde  craft, 
Can  kepe  a  forest  best  of  any  man: 
Now  kepeth  hem  wel,  for  if  ye  wol  ye  can. 
Loke  wel,  that  ye  unto  no  vice  assent, 
Lest  ye  be  damned  for  your  wikke  entent, 
For  who  so  doth,  a  traytour  is  certain : 
And  taketh  kepe  of  that  I  shal  you  sain ; 
Of  alle  treson  soveraine  pestilence 
Is,  whan  a  wight  betrayeth  innocence. 

Ye  fathers,  and  ye  mothers  eke  also, 
Though  ye  han  children,  be  it  on  or  mo, 
Your  is  the  charge  of  all  hir  surveance, 
While  that  they  ben  under  your  governance. 
Beth  ware,1  that  by  ensample  of  your  Living, 
Or  by  your  negligence  in  chastising, 
That  they  ne  perish:  for  I  dare  wel  saye, 
If  that  they  don,  ye  shul  it  dere  abeye. 
Under  a  shepherd  soft  and  negligent, 
The  wolf  hath  many  a  shepe  and  lamb  to-rent. 

Sufficeth  this  ensample  now  as  here, 
For  I  mote  turne  agen  to  my  matere. 

l  Beware. 
28 


326  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  12039-12078. 

This  maid,  of  which  I  tell  my  tale  expresse, 
She  kept  hireself,  hire  neded  no  maistresse ; 
For  in  hire  living  maidens  mighten  rede, 
As  in  a  book,  every  good  word  and  dede, 
That  longeth  to  a  maiden  vertuous : 
She  was  so  prudent  and  so  bounteous. 
For  which  the  fame  out  sprong  on  every  side 
Both  of  hire  beautee  and  hire  bountee  wide : 
That  thurgh  the  lond  they  preised  hire  ech  one, 
That  loved  vertue,  sauf  envie  alone, 
That  sory  is  of  other  mannes  wele, 
And  glad  is  of  his  sorwe  and  his  unhele. 
The  doctour  maketh  this  descriptioun. 

This  maiden  on  a  day  went  in  the  toun 
Toward  a  temple,  with  hire  mother1  dere, 
As  is  of  yonge  maidens  the  manere. 

Now  was  ther  than  a  justice  in  that  toun, 
That  governour  was  of  that  regioun: 
And  so  beidll,  this  juge  his  eyen  cast 
Upon  this  maid,  avising  hire  ful  fast, 
As  she  came  forth  by  ther  this  juge  stood: 
Anon  his  herte  changed  and  his  mood, 
So  was  he  caught  with  beautee  of  this  maid, 
And  to  himself  ful  prively  he  said, 
This  maiden  shal  be  min  for  any  man. 

Anon  the  fend  into  his  herte  ran, 
And  taught  him  sodenly,  that  he  by  sleight 
This  maiden  to  his  purpos  winnen  might. 
For  certes,  by  no  force,  ne  by  no  mede, 
Him  thought  he  was  not  able  for  to  spede 
For  she  was  strong  of  frendes,  and  eke  she 
Confermed  was  in  swiche  soveraine  bountee, 
That  wel  he  wist  he  might  hire  never  winne, 
As  for  to  make  hire  with  hire  body  sinne. 
For  which  with  gret  deliberatioun 
He  sent  after  a  cherl  was  in  the  toun, 
The  which  he  knew  for  sotii  and  for  bold.8 
This  juge  unto  this  cherl  his  tale  hath  told 
In  secree  wise,  and  made  him  to  ensure, 
He  shulde  tell  it  to  no  creature, 

*  Rather  "  her  nurse."  But  Chaucer  has  deserted  Livy  and  the  old 
writers  so  frequently  in  this  narrative,  that  it  is  of  little  use  to  notice 
the  discrepancies. 

3  Either  for  cunning  or  force. 


12079-12120.  THE  DOCTOURES  TALE.  327 

And  if  he  did,  he  shulde  lese  his  hede. 
And  whan  assented  was  this  cursed  rede, 
Glad  was  the  juge,  and  maked  him  gret  chero, 
And  yaf  him  yeftes  precious  and  dere. 

Whan  shapen  was  all  hir  conspiracie 
Fro  point  to  point,  how  that  his  leckerie 
Parformed  shulde  be  ful  sotilly, 
As  ye  shul  here  it  after  openly, 
Home  goth  this  cherl,  that  highte  Claudius. 
This  false  juge,  that  highte  Appius, 
(So  was  his  name,  for  it  is  no  fable, 
But  knowen  for  an  historial  thing  notable; 
The  sentence  of  it  soth  is  out  of  doute) 
This  false  juge  goth  now  fast  aboute 
To  hasten  his  delit  all  that  he  may.. 
And  so  befell,  sone  after  on  a  day 
This  false  juge,  as  telleth  us  the  storie, 
As  he  was  wont,  sat  in  his  consistorie, 
And  yaf  his  domes1  upon  sondry  cas ; 
This  false  cherl  came  forth  a  ful  gret  pas, 
And  saide ;  lord,  if  that  it  be  your  will, 
As  dpth  me  right  upon  this  pitous  bill, 
In  which  I  plaine  upon  Virgmius. 
And  if  that  he  wol  sayn  it  is  not  thus, 
I  wol  it  preve,  and  finden  good  witnesse, 
That  soth  is  that  my  bille  wol  expresse. 

The  juge  answerd,  of  this  in  his  absence 
I  may  not  yeve  difiinitif  sentence. 
Let  don  him  call,  and  I  wol  gladly  here ; 
Thou  shalt  have  right,  and  no  wrong  as  now  here. 

Virginius  came  to  wete  the  juges  will, 
And  right  anon  was  red  this  cursed  bill; 
The  sentence  of  it  was  as  ye  shul  here. 

To  you,  my  lord  sire  Appius  so  dere, 
Sheweth  your  poure  servant  Claudius, 
How  that  a  knight  called  Virginius, 
Agein  the  lawe,  agein  all  equitee, 
Holdeth,  expresse  agein  the  will  of  me, 
My  servant,  which  that  is  my  thral  by  rights 
Which  from  min  hous  was  stolen  on  a  night 
While  that  she  was  ful  yong,  I  wol  it  preve 
By  witnesse,  lord,  so  that  it  you  not  greve ; 

1  Gave  judgment. 


328  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  12121-12164. 

She  n'is  his  doughter  nought,  what  so  he  say. 
Wherfore  to  you,  my  lord  the  juge,  I  pray; 
Yelde  me  my  thral,  if  that  it  be  your  will 
Lo,  this  was  all  the  sentence  of  his  bill. 

Virginius  gan  upon  the  cherl  behold ; 
But  hastily,  er  he  his  tale  told, 
And  wold  ban  preved  it,  as  shuld  a  knight, 
And  eke  by  witnessing  of  many  a  wight, 
That  all  was  false,  that  said  his  adversary, 
This  cursed  juge  wolde  nothing  tary, 
Ne  here  a  word  more  of  Virginius, 
But  yave  his  jugement,  and  saide  thus. 

I  deme  anon  this  cherl  his  servant  have. 
Thou  shalt  no  lenger  in  thin  hous  hire  save. 
Go  bring  hire  forth,  and  put  hire  in  our  ward. 
The  cherl  shal  have  his  thral ;  thus  I  award. 

And  whan  this  worthy  knight  Virginius, 
Thurgh  sentence  of  this  justice  Appius, 
Muste  by  force  his  dere  doughter  yeven 
Unto  the  juge,  in  lecherie  to  liven, 
He  goth  him  home,  and  set  him  in  his  hall, 
And  let  anon  his  dere  doughter  call : 
And  with  a  face  ded  as  ashen  cold, 
Upon  hire  humble  face  he  gan  behold, 
With  fadres  pitee  stiking  thurgh  his  herte, 
Al  wold  he  from  his  purpos  not  converte. 

Doughter,  quod  he,  Virginia  by  thy  name, 
Ther  ben  two  waies,  other  deth  or  shame, 
That  thou  must  suffre,  alas  that  I  was  bore! 
For  never  thou  deservedest  wherfore 
To  dien  with  a  swerd  or  with  a  knif. 
O  dere  doughter,  ender  of  my  lif, 
Which  I  have  fostred  up  with  swiche  plesance, 
That  thou  were  never  out  of  my  remembrance: 
O  doughter,  which  that  art  my  laste  wo, 
And  in  my  lif  my  laste  joye  also, 
O  gemme  of  chastitee,  in  patience 
Take  thou  thy  deth,  for  this  is  my  sentence ; 
For  love  and  not  for  hate  thou  must  be  ded, 
My  pitous  hond  must  smiten  of  thin  hed 
Alas  that  ever  Appius  thee  say! 
Thus  hath  he  fairly  juged  thee  to-day. 
And  told  hire  all  the  cas,  as  ye  before 
Han  herd,  it  nedeth  not  to  tell  it  more. 


12165-12208.  THE  DOCTOURES  TALE. 

O  mercy,  dere  father,  quod  this  maid. 
And  with  that  word  she  both  hire  armes  laid 
About  his  necke,  as  she  was  wont  to  do, 
(The  teres  brast  out  of  hire  eyen  two,) 
And  said,  O  goode  father,  shal  I  die  ? 
Is  ther  no  grace  ?  is  ther  no  remedie  ? 

No  certes,  dere  doughter  min,  quod  he. 
Than  yeve  me  leiser,  father  min,  quod  she, 
My  deth  for  to  complaine  a  litel  space : 
For  parde  Jepte  yave  his  doughter  grace 
For  to  complaine,  or  he  hire  slow,  alas ! 
And  God  it  wot,  nothing  was  hire  trespass, 
But  for  she  ran  hire  father  first  to  see, 
To  welcome  him  with  gret  solempnitee. 
And  with  that  word  she  fell  aswoune  anon, 
And  after,  whan  hire  swouning  was  agon, 
She  riseth  up,  and  to  hire  father  said: 
Blessed  be  God,  that  I  shall  die  a  maid. 
Yeve  me  my  deth,  or  that  I  have  a  shame. 
Doth  with  your  child  your  wille  a  goddes  name. 
And  with  that  word  she  praied  him  ful  oft, 
That  with  his  swerd  he  wolde  smite  lure  soft ; 
And  with  that  word,  aswoune  again  she  fell. 
Hire  father,  with  ful  sorweful  herte  and  will, 
Hire  hed  of  smote,  and  by  the  top  it  hent, 
And  to  the  juge  he  gan  it  to  present, 
As  he  sat  yet  in  dome  in  consistorie. 

And  whan  the  juge  it  saw,  as  saith  the  storie, 
He  bad  to  take  him,  and  anhang  him  fast. 
But  right  anon  a  thousand  peple  in  thrast 
To  save  the  knight,  for  routh  and  for  pitee, 
For  knowen  was  the  false  iniquitee. 

The  peple  anon  had  suspect  in  this  thing 
By  maner  of  the  cherles  chalenging, 
That  it  was  by  the  assent  of  Appius ; 
They  wisten  wel  that  he  was  lecherous. 
For  which  unto  this  Appius  they  gon, 
And  caste  him  in  a  prison  right  anon, 
Wheras  he  slow  himself:  and  Claudius, 
That  servant  was  unto  this  Appius, 
Was  demed  for  to  hange  upon  a  tree ; 
But  that  Virginius  of  his  pitee 
So  prayed  for  him,  that  he  was  exiled, 
And  elles  certes  had  he  ben  begiled : 
28* 


330  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         12209-12220. 

The  remenant  were  anhanged,  more  and  lesse, 
That  were  consentant  of  this  cursednesse. 

Here  men  may  see  how  sin  hath  his  inerite : 
Beth  ware,  for  no  man  wot  whom  God  wol  smite 
In  no  degree,  ne  in  which  maner  wise 
The  worme  of  conscience  may  agrise 
Of  wicked  lif,  though  it  so  privee  be, 
That  no  man  wote  therof,  sauf  God  and  he: 
For  be  he  lewed  man  or  elles  lered, 
He  n'ot  how  sone  that  he  shal  ben  afered, 
Therfore  I  rede  you  this  conseil  take, 
JTorsaketh  sinue,  or1  sinne  you  forsake. 

»  Before  that. 


331 
THE  PARDONERES  PROLOGUE. 

12221-12250. 

Our  Hoste  gan  to  swere  as  he  were  wood; 
Harow !  (quod  he)  by  nailes  and  by  blood, 
This  was  a  false  cherl,  and  a  false  justice. 
As  shameful  deth,  as  herte  can  devise, 
Come  to  thise  juges  and  hir  advocas. 
Algate  this  soly1  maide  is  slain,  alas! 
Alas !  to  dere  abought  she  hire  beautee. 
Wherfore  I  say,  that  al  day  man  may  see, 
That  yeftes  of  fortune  and  of  nature 
Ben  cause  of  deth  to  many  a  creature. 
Hire  beautee  was  hire  deth,  I  dare  wel  sain ; 
Alas !  so  pitously  as  she  was  slain. 
Of  bothe  yeftes,  that  I  speke  of  now, 
Men  han  ful  often  more  for  harm  than  prow.* 

But  trewely,  min  owen  maister  dere, 
This  was  a  pitous  tale  for  to  here : 
But  natheles,  passe  over,  is  no  force. 
I  pray  to  God  so  save  thy  gentil  corps, 
And  eke  thyn  urinals,  and  thy  jordanes, 
Thin  Ypocras,3  and  eke  thy  Galianes,4 
And  every  boists  ful  of  thy  letuarie, 
God  blesse  hem  and  our  lady  Seinte  Marie, 
So  mote  I  the,8  thou  art  a  propre  man, 
And  like  a  prelat  by  Seint  Konian ; 
Said  I  not  wel  ?  I  cannot  speke  in  terme  ;7 
But  wel  I  wot,  thou  dost  min  herte  to  ernie, 
That  I  have  almost  caught  a  cardiacle:8 
By  corpus  domini  but  I  have  triacle,9 
Or  elles  a  draught  of  moist  and  corny10  ale, 
Or  but  I  here  anon  a  mery  tale, 

*  Innocent.  2  Profit.  *  Hippocrates. 

*  Galen.  s  Box,  chest  •  Thrive. 

7  I.e.,  in  elaborate  phraseology. 

8  A  pain  or  spasm  about  the  region  of  the  heart. 

»  Theriaque,  a  remedy.  10  Well-malted. 


332  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  12251-12284. 

Myn  herte  is  lost  for  pitee  of  this  maid. 
Thou  bel  amy,  thou  pardoner,  he  said, 
Tel  us  som  mirth  of  japes  right  anon. 

It  shal  he  don,  quod  he,  hy  Seint  Ronton. 
But  first  (quod  he)  here  at  this  ale-stake 
I  wol  both  drinke,  and  biten  on  a  cake. 
But  right  anon  thise  gentiles  gan  to  crie ; 

Nay,  let  him  tell  us  of  no  ribaudrie, 
Tel  us  som  moral  thing,  that  we  mow  lere, 
Som  wit,  and  thanne  wol  we  gladly  here. 
I  graunte  ywis,  quod  he,  but  I  must  thinke 
Upon  som  honest  thing,  while  that  I  drinke. 


r*  JJartams  faie. 


Lordings,  quod  he,  in  chirche  whan  I  preche, 
I  peine  me  to  have  an  hautein  speche, 
And  ring  it  out,  as  round  as  goth  a  bell, 
For  I  can1  all  by  rote  that  I  tell. 
My  teme2  is  alway  on,  and  ever  was ; 
Radix  malorum  est  cupiditas? 

First  I  pronounce  whennes  that  I  come, 
And  than  my  bulles  shew  I  all  and  some : 
Our  liege  lordes  sele  on  my  patente, 
That  shew  I  first  my  body  to  warrente, 
That  no  man  be  so  bold,  ne  preest  ne  clerk, 
Me  to  disturbe  of  Cristes  holy  werke. 
And  after  that  than  tell  I  forth  my  tales. 
Bulles  of  popes,  and  of  cardinales, 
Of  patriarkes,  and  bishoppes  I  shewe, 
And  in  Latin  I  speke  a  wordes  fewe, 
To  saffron4  with  my  predication, 
And  for  to  stere  men  to  devotion. 
Than  shew  I  forth  my  longe  cristal  stones, 
Ycrammed  ful  of  cloutes  and  of  bones, 
Belikes  they  ben,  as  wenen  they  echon. 

Than  have  I  in  laton  a  shulder  bone, 

>  Ken,  know.  .  a  Theme. 

8  Cupidity,  avarice,  is  the  root  of  evils.  4  Colour,  flavour. 


12285-12320.  THE   PARDONERES  TALE  333 

Which  that  was  of  an  holy  Jewes  shepe. 

Good  men,  say  I,  take  of  my  wordes  kepe : 
If  that  this  bone  be  washe  in  any  well, 
If  cow,  or  calf,  or  shepe,  or  oxe  swell, 
That  any  worm  hath  ete,  or  worm  ystonge, 
Take  water  of  that  well,  and  wash  his  touge, 
And  it  is  hole  anon :  and  furthermore 
Of  pockes,  and  of  scab,  and  every  sore 
Shal  every  shepe  be  hole,  that  of  this  well 
Drinketh  a  draught ;  take  kepe  of  that  I  tell. 

If  that  the  good  man,  that  the  bestes  oweth,1 
Wol  every  weke,  er  that  the  cok  him  croweth, 
Fasting  ydrinken  of  this  well  a  draught, 
As  thilke  holy  Jew  our  eldres  taught, 
His  bestes  and  his  store  shal  multiplie. 
And,  sires,  also  it  heleth  jalousie. 
For  though  a  man  be  falle  in  jalous  rage, 
Let  maken  with  this  water  his  potage, 
And  never  shal  he  more  his  wif  mistrist, 
Though  he  the  soth  of  hire  defaute  wist ; 
Al  had  she  taken  preestes  two  or  three. 

Here  is  a  mitaine2  eke,  that  ye  may  see : 
He  that  his  hand  wol  put  in  this  mitaine, 
He  shal  have  multiplying  of  his  graine, 
Whan  he  hath  sowen,  be  it  whete  or  otes, 
So  that  he  offer  pens3  or  elles  grotes. 

And,  men  and  women,  o  thing  warne  I  you : 
If  any  wight  be  in  this  chirche  now, 
That  hath  don  sinne  horrible,  so  that  he 
Dare  not  for  shame  of  it  yshriven  be  : 
Or  any  woman,  be  she  yong  or  old, 
That  hath  ymade  hire  husbond  cokewold, 
Swiche  folk  shul  han  no  power  ne  no  grace 
To  offer  to  my  relikes  in  this  place. 
And  who  so  findeth  him  out  of  swiche  blame, 
He  wol  come  up  and  offer  in  Goddes  name, 
And  I  assoyle4  him  by  the  auctoritee, 
Which  that  by  bulle  ygranted  was  to  me. 

By  this  gaude5  have  I  wonnen  yere  by  yere 
An  hundred  mark,  sin  I  was  pardonere. 
I  stonde  like  a  clerk  in  my  pulpet, 
And  whan  the  lewed  peple  is  doun  yset, 

*  Owneth.  Mitten,  glove.  a  Pence. 

*  Absolve.  *  Trick. 


334  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  12327-12364 

I  preche  so  as  ye  han  herd  before, 
And  tell  an  hundred  false  japes  more. 
Than  peine  I  me  to  stretchen  forth  my  necke, 
And  est  and  west  upon  the  peple  I  becke, 
As  doth  a  dove,  sitting  upon  a  berne : 
Myn  hondes  and  my  tonge  gon  so  yerne,1 
That  it  is  joye  to  see  my  besinesse. 
Of  avarice  and  of  swiche  cursednesse 
Is  all  my  preching,  for  to  make  hem  freo 
To  yeve  hir  pens,  and  namely  unto  me. 
For  min  entente  is  not  but  for  to  winne, 
And  nothing  for  correction  of  sinne. 
I  recke  never  whan  that  they  be  beried, 
Though  that  hir  soules  gon  a  blake  beried.* 

For  certes  many  a  predication 
Cometh  oft  time  of  evil  entention ; 
Som  for  plesance  of  folk,  and  flaterie, 
To  ben  avanced  by  hypocrisie ; 
And  som  for  vaine  glorie,  and  som  for  hate. 
For  whan  I  dare  non  other  wayes  debate, 
Than  wol  I  sting  him  with  my  tonge  smerte 
In  preching,  so  that  he  shal  not  asterte 
To  ben  defamed  falsely,  if  that  he 
Hath  trespassed  to  my  brethren  or  to  me. 
For  though  I  telle  not  his  propre  name, 
Men  shal  wel  knowen  that  it  is  the  same 
By  signes,  and  by  other  circumstances. 
Thus  quite  I  folk,  that  don  us  displesances : 
Thus  spit  I  out  my  venime  under  hewe 
Of  holinesse,  to  seme  holy  and  trewe. 
But  shortly  min  entente  I  wol  devise, 
I  preche  of  nothing  but  for  covetise. 
Therfore  my  teme  is  yet,  and  ever  was, 
Radix  malorum  est  cupiditas. 

Thus  can  I  preche  again  the  same  vice 
Which  that  I  use,  and  that  is  avarice. 
But  though  myself  be  gilty  in  that  sinne, 
Yet  can  I  maken  other  folk  to  twinne3 


1  Quickly. 
So  all  the  MSS.,  I  think,  except  Ask.  2,  which  reads  "  on  blake  be 
ryed."     Skinner  explains  blakeheried  to  mean  in  nigral  et  inauspicata* 
domot  mitiut.    I  really  cannot  guess  what  it  means. — TyrwhiU. 
3  Turn. 


12365-12404.  THE   PARDONERES   TALE.  335 

From  avarice,  and  sore  hem  to  repente. 
But  that  is  not  my  principal  entente ; 
I  preche  nothing  but  for  covetise. 
Of  this  matere  it  ought  ynough  suffise. 

Than  tell  I  hem  ensamples  many  on 
Of  olde  stories  longe  time  agon. 
For  lewed1  peple  loven  tales  olde  ; 
Swiche  thinges  can  they  wel  report  and  holde. 
What  1  trowen  ye,  that  whiles  I  may  preche 
And  winnen  gold  and  silver  for  I  teche, 
That  I  wol  live  in  poverte  wilfully? 
Nay,  nay,  I  thought  it  never  trewely. 
For  I  wol  preche  and  beg  in  sondry  londes, 
I  wol  not  do  no  labour  with  min  hondes, 
Ne  make  baskettes  for  to  live  therby, 
Because  I  wol  not  beggen  idelly. 
I  wol  non  of  the  apostles  contrefete : 
I  wol  have  money,  wolle,  chese,  and  whete, 
Al  were  it  yeven  of  the  pourest  page, 
Or  of  the  pourest  widewe  in  a  village : 
Al  shulde  hire  children  sterven2  for  famine. 
Nay,  I  wol  drinke  the  licour  of  the  vine, 
And  have  a  joly  wenche  in  every  toun. 

But  herkeneth,  lordings,  in  conclusioun, 
Your  liking  is  that  I  shal  tell  a  tale. 
Now  I  have  dronke  a  draught  of  corny  ale, 
By  God  I  hope  I  shal  you  tell  a  thing, 
That  shal  by  reson  ben  at  your  liking : 
For  though  myself  be  a  ful  vicious  man, 
A  moral  tale  yet  I  you  tellen  can. 
Which  I  am  wont  to  prechen,  for  to  winne. 
Now  hold  your  pees,  my  tale  I  wol  beginne. 

In  Flandres  whilom  was  a  compagnie 
Of  yonge  folk,  that  haunteden  folie, 
As  hasard,  riot,  stewes,  and  tavernes ; 
Wheras  with  harpes,  lutes,  and  giternes, 
They  dance  and  plaie  at  dis  bothe  day  and  night, 
And  ete  also,  and  drinke  over  hir  might; 
Thurgh  which  they  don  the  devil  sacrifice 
Within  the  devils  temple,  in  cursed  wise, 

1  Ignorant,  simple.  *  Die. 


336  TflE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  12405-]  2444* 

By  superfluitee  abhominable. 

Hir  othes  ben  so  gret  and  so  damnable, 

That  it  is  grisly  for  to  here  hem  swere. 

Our  blisful  lordes  body  they  to-tere ; 

Hem  thought  the  Jewes  rent  him  not  ynough ; 

And  eche  of  hem  at  others  sinne  lough. 

And  right  anon  in  comen  tombesteres1 
Fetis2  and  smale,  and  yonge  fruitesteres,3 
Singers  with  harpes,  baudes,  wafereres/ 
Which  ben  the  veray  devils  officeres, 
To  kindle  and  blow  the  fire  of  lecherie. 
That  is  annexed  unto  glotonie. 
The  holy  writ  take  I  to  my  witnesse, 
That  luxurie  is  in  wine  and  dronkenesse. 

Lo,  how  that  dronken  Loth  unkindely* 
Lay  by  his  daughters  two  unwetingly, 
So  dronke  he  was  he  n'iste6  what  he  wrought. 

Herodes,  who  so  wel  the  stories  sought, 
Whan  he  of  wine  replete  was  at  his  feste, 
Eight  at  his  owen  table  he  yave  his  heste 
To  sleen  the  Baptist  John  ful  gilteles. 

Seneca  saith  a  good  word  douteles : 
He  saith  he  can  no  difference  find 
Betwix  a  man  that  is  out  of  his  mind, 
And  a  man  whiche  that  is  dronkelew : 
But  that  woodnesse/  yfallen  in  a  shrew, 
Persevereth  lenger  than  doth  dronkenesse. 

O  glotonie,  full  of  cursednesse ; 
O  cause  first  of  our  confusion, 
O  original  of  our  damnation, 
Til  Crist  had  bought  us  with  his  blood  again. 
Loketh,  how  dere,  shortly  for  to  sain, 
Abought  was  thilke  cursed  vilanie : 
Corrupt  was  all  this  world  for  glotonie. 

Adam  our  father,  and  his  wif  also, 
Fro  Paradis,  to  labour  and  to  wo, 
Were  driven  tor  that  vice,  it  is  no  drede. 
For  while  that  Adam  fasted,  as  I  rede,8 
He  was  in  Paradis,  and  whan  that  he 
Ete  of  the  fruit  defended  on  a  tree, 

1  Female  dancers.  *  Neat.  s  Fruit-sellers. 

*  Sellers  of  wafers,  or  cakes.  8  Unnaturally. 

•  Knew  not.  7  Madness.  8  Doubt. 


12445-12486.  THE  PARD0NERE3  TALE.  337 

Anon  he  was  out  cast  to  wo  and  peine, 

0  glotonie,  on  thee  wel  ought  us  plaiue. 
0,  wist  a  man  how  many  maladies 

Folwen  of  excesse  and  oi  glotonies, 

He  wolde  ben  the  more  mesurable 

Of  his  diete,  sitting  at  his  table. 

Alas!  the  shorte  throte,  the  tendre  mo\ith, 

Maketh  that  Est  and  West,  and  North  and  South 

In  erthe,  in  air,  in  water,  men  to-swinke,1 

To  gete  a  gloton  deintee  mete  and  drinke. 

Of  this  matere,  O  Poule,  wel  canst  thou  trete. 

Mete  unto  wombe,  and  wombe  eke  unto  mete 

Shal  God  destroien  bothe,  as  Faulus  saith, 

Alas!  a  foule  thing  is  it  by  my  faith 

To  say  this  word,  and  fouler  is  the  dede, 

Whan  man  so  drinketh  of  the  white  and  rede, 

That  of  his  throte  he  maketh  his  privee 

Thurgh  thilke  cursed  superfluitee. 

The  Apostle  saith2  weping  lul  pitously, 
Ther  walken  many,  of  which  you  told  have  I, 

1  say  it  now  weping  with  pilous  vois, 
That  they  ben  enemies  of  Cristes  crois: 

Of  whiche  the  end  is  deth,  womb  is  hir  God. 

O  wombe,  O  belly,  stinking  is  thy  cod,3 

Fulfilled  of  dong  and  of  corruptioun ; 

At  either  end  of  thee  foule  is  the  soun. 

How  gret  labour  and  cost  is  thee  to  find ! 

Thise  cokes  how  they  stamp,  and  strein,  and  grind, 

And  turnen  substance  into  accident, 

To  fulfill  all  thy  likerous  talent! 

Out  oi  the  harde  bones  knocken  they 

The  mary,4  for  they  casten  nought  away, 

That  may  go  thurgh  the  gullet  soft  and  sote: 

Of  spicerie,  of  leef,  of  barke,  and  rote,5 

Shal  ben  his  sause  ymaked  by  delit 

To  make  him  yet  a  newer  appetit. 

But  certes  he,  that  haunteth  swiche  delices, 

Is  ded,  while  that  he  liveth  in  tho  vices. 

A  lecherous  thing  is  wine,  and  dronkenesse 
Is  ful  of  striving  and  of  wretchednesse. 
O  dronken  man,  disfigured  is  thy  face, 
Sour  is  thy  breth,  foul  art  thou  to  enbrace: 

1  Toil.  *  Philipp.  iii.  18.  '  Bag. 

*  Marrow,  •  Soot 

29 


338  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES-         12487-12518, 

And  thurgh  thy  dronken  nose  semeth  the  soun, 

As  though  thou  saidest  ay,  Sampsoun,  Sampsoun: 

And  yet,  God  wot,  Sampsoun  dronk  never  no  wine. 

Thou  fallest,  as  it  were  a  stiked  swine : 

Thy  tonge  is  lost,  and  all  thin  honest  cure, 

For  dronkenesse  is  veray  sepulture 

Of  mannes  wit,  and  his  discretion. 

In  whom  that  drinke  hath  domination, 

He  can  no  conseil  kepe,  it  is  no  drede. 

Now  kepe  you  fro  the  white  and  fro  the  rede, 

And  namely  fro  the  white  wine  of  Lepe,1 

That  is  to  sell  in  Fishstrete  and  in  Chepe. 

This  wine  of  Spaigne  crepeth  subtilly 

In  other  wines  growing  faste  by, 

Of  which  ther  riseth  swiche  fumositee, 

That  whan  a  man  hath  dronken  draughtes  three, 

And  weneth  that  he  be  at  home  in  Chepe, 

He  is  in  Spaigne,  right  at  the  toun  of  Lepe, 

Not  at  the  Rochell,  ne  at  Burdeux  toun ; 

And  thanne  wol  he  say,  Sampsoun,  Sampsoun. 

But  herkeneth,  lordings,  o  word,  I  you  pray, 
That  all  the  soveraine  actes,  dare  I  say, 
Of  victories  in  the  Olde  Testament, 
Thurgh  veray  God,  that  is  omnipotent, 
Were  don  in  abstinence  and  in  prayere: 
Loketh  the  Bible,  and  ther  ye  mow  it  lere. 

Loke  Attila,  the  grete  conquerour, 
Died  in  his  slepe,  with  shame  and*  dishonour, 
Bleding  ay  at  his  nose  in  dronkenesse : 
A  capitaine  shulde  live  in  sobrenesse. 

And  over  all  this,  aviseth  you  right  wel, 
What  was  commanded  unto  Lamuel ; 

1  According  to  the  geographers,  Lepe  was  not  far  from  Cadiz.  This 
wine,  of  whatever  sort  it  may  have  been,  was  probably  much  stronger 
than  the  Gascon  wines,  usually  drunk  in  England.  La  Iiochclle  and 
Bourdeaux,  ver.  12505,  the  two  chief  ports  of  Gascony,  were  both,  in 
Chaucer's  time,  part  of  the  English  dominions. 

Spanish  wines  might  also  be  more  alluring  upon  account  of  their 
greater  rarity.  Among  the  orders  of  the  royal  household,  in  1G04,  is 
the  following  (MS.  Harl.,  293,  fol.  162)  : — "  And  whereas,  in  tymes  past, 
Spanish  wines,  called  Sacke,  were  little  or  noe  whit  used  in  our  courte, 
and  that  in  later  years,  though  not  of  ordinary  allowance,  it  was 
thought  convenient  that  noblemen,  &c,  might  have  a  boule  or  glass, 
&c.  We,  understanding  that  it  is  now  used  as  common  drinke,  &c, 
reduce  the  allowance  to  xn  gallons  a  day  for  the  court,  &o."—  Tyrwhitt. 


12519-12554.  THE  PARDONERES  TALE.  339 

Not  Samuel,  but  Lamuel  say  I. 
Redeth  the  Bible,1  and  find  it  expresly 
Of  wine  yeving  to  hem  that  have  justice. 
No  more  of  this,  for  it  may  wel  suffice. 

And  now  that  I  have  spoke  of  glotonie, 
Now  wol  I  you  defenden  hasardrie, 
Hasard  is  veray  moder  of  lesinges, 
And  of  deceite,  and  cursed  forsweringes : 
Blaspheming  of  Crist,  manslaughter,  and  wast  also 
Of  catel,  and  of  time ;  and  forthermo 
It  is  repreve,  and  contrary  of  honour, 
For  to  ben  hold  a  commun  hasardour. 
And  ever  the  higher  he  is  of  estat 
The  more  he  is  holden  desolat. 
If  that  a  Prince  useth  hasarderie, 
In  alle  governance  and  policie 
He  is,  as  by  commun  opinion, 
Yhold  the  lesse  in  reputation. 

Stilbon,2  that  was  a  wise  embassadour, 
Was  sent  to  Corinth  with  ful  gret  honour 
Fro  Calidone,  to  maken  hem  alliance : 
And  whan  he  came,  it  happed  him  par  chance, 
That  all  the  gretest  that  were  of  that  lond 
Yplaying  atte  hasard  he  hem  fond. 
For  which,  as  sone  as  that  it  mighte  be, 
He  stale  him  home  agein  to  his  contree, 
And  sayde  ther,  I  wol  not  lese  my  name, 
Ne  wol  not  take  on  me  so  gret  defame, 
You  for  to  allie  unto  non  hasardours. 
Sendeth  som  other  wise  embassadours, 
For  by  my  trouthe,  me  were  lever  die, 
Than  I  you  shuld  to  hasardours  allie. 
For  ye,  that  ben  so  glorious  in  honours, 
Shal  not  allie  you  to  non  hasardours, 
As  by  my  wille,  ne  as  by  my  tretee. 
This  wise  philosophre  thus  sayd  he. 

1  Prov.  xxxi.  4,  5. 
8  John  of  Salisbury,  from  whom  our  author  probably  took  this  story 
and  the  following,  calls  him  Chilon.  Polycrat.  L.  I.  c.  5.  Chilon  Lace- 
dxmonius,  jungendae  societatis  causa  missus  Corinthum,  duces  et  seniores 
populi  ludentes  invenit  in  alea.  Infecto  itaque  negotio  reversus  e«t. 
&c.  Accordingly,  in  ver.  12539,  MS.  C.  I.,  reads  very  rightly  Laccdi.i  . 
instead  of  Calidone,  the  common  reading.  Our  author  has  used  bvloro 
Lacedomie  for  LaceiUvmon,  ver.  11692. — Tyrwhitt. 


340  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         12555-12586. 

Loke  eke  how  to  the  king  Demetrius 
The  king  of  Parthes,  as  the  book  sayth  us, 
Sent  him  a  pair  of  d  is  of  gold  in  scorne, 
For  he  had  used  hasard  therbeforne : 
For  which  he  held  his  glory  and  his  renoun 
At  no  value  or  reputatioun. 
Lordes  may  finden  other  maner  play 
Honest  ynough  to  drive  the  day  away. 
Now  wol  I  speke  of  others  false  and  grete 
A  word  or  two,  as  olde  bookes  trete. 
Gret  swering  is  a  thing  abhominable, 
And  false  swering  is  yet  more  reprevable. 
The  highe  God  forbad  swering  at  al, 
Witnesse  on  Mathew :  but  in  special 
Of  swering  sayth  the  holy  Jeremie, 
Thou  shalt  swere  soth  thin  othes,  and  not  lie ; 
And  swere  in  dome,1  and  eke  in  rightwisnesse  • 
But  idel  swering  is  a  cursednesse. 

Behold  and  see,  that  in  the  firste  table 
Of  highe  Goddes  hestes  honourable, 
How  that  the  second  hest  of  him  is  this, 
Take  not  my  name  in  idel  or  amis. 
Lo,  rather  he  forbedeth  swiche  swering, 
Thau  homicide,  or  many  an  other  thing. 
I  say  that  as  by  ordre  thus  it  stondeth ; 
This  knoweth  he  that  his  hestes  understondeth ; 
How  that  the  second  hest  of  God  is  that. 
And  forthermore,  I  wol  thee  tell  all  plat, 
That  vengeance  shal  not  parten  from  his  hous, 
That  of  his  othes  is  outrageous. 
By  Goddes  precious  herte,  and  by  his  nailes,3 
And  by  the  blood  of  Crist,  that  is  in  Hailes,3 

i  Judgment. 

*  /.  e.,  with  which  he  was  nailed  to  the  cross.  Sir  J.  Mandevfle, 
c  vii.  "  And  thereby  in  the  walle  is  the  place  where  the  four  nayles 
of  our  Lord  weren  hidd ;  for  he  had  two  in  his  hondes  and  two  in  his 
feet :  and  of  one  of  theise  the  Emperour  of  Costantynoble  made  a 
brydille  to  his  hors,  to  bere  him  in  bataylle;  and  thorgh  vertue 
thereof  he  overcame  his  enemies,"  &c.  He  had  said  before,  c.  ii.  that 
"  on  of  the  nayles  that  Crist  was  naylled  with  on  the  cross,"  was  at 
Constantynoble ;  and  "on  in  France,  in  the  kinges  chapelle." — Tyruhitt. 

3  The  Abbey  of  Hailes,  in  Glocesterehire,  was  founded  by  Richard, 
king  of  the  Romans,  brother  to  Henry  III.  This  precious  relick,  which 
was  afterwards  commonly  called  "  the  blood  of  Hailes,"  was  brought 
out  of  Germanie  by  the  son  of  Richard,  Edmund,  who  bestowed  a  third 


12587-12618.  THE  PARDONERES  TALE.  341 

Seven  is  ray  chance,  and  thin  is  cink  and  treyo: 
By  Godcles  armes,  if  thou  falsely  pleye, 
This  dagger  shal  thurghout  thin  herte  go. 
This  fruit  cometh  of  the  bicchel  bones  two,1 
Forswering,  ire,  falsenesse,  and  homicide. 

Now  for  the  love  of  Crist  that  for  us  dide, 
Leteth2  your  othes,  bothe  gret  and  smale. 
But,  sires,  now  wol  I  tell  you  forth  my  tale. 

Thise  riotoures  three,  of  which  I  tell, 
Long  erst  or  prime  rong  of  any  bell, 
Were  set  hem  in  a  taverne  for  to  drinke: 
And  as  they  sat,  they  herd  a  belle  clinke 
Beforn  a  corps,  was  caried  to  his  grave : 
That  on  of  hem  gan  callen  to  his  knave, 
Go  bet,  quod  he,  and  axe  redily, 
"What  corps  is  this,  that  passeth  here  forth  by: 
And  loke  that  thou  report  his  name  wel. 

Sire,  quod  this  boy,  it  uedeth  never  a  del; 
It  was  me  told  or  ye  came  here  two  houres; 
He  was  parde  an  old  felaw  of  youres, 
And  sodenly  he  was  yslain  to-night, 
Fordronke  as  he  sat  on  his  benche  upright, 
Ther  came  a  privee  theef,  men  clepen  Deth, 
That  in  this  contree  all  the  peple  sleth, 
And  with  his  spere  he  smote  his  herte  atwo, 
And  went  his  way  withouten  wordes  mo. 
He  hath  a  thousand  slain  this  pestilence : 
And,  maister,  or  ye  come  in  his  presence, 
Me  thinketh  that  it  were  ful  necessarie, 
For  to  beware  of  swiche  an  adversarie: 
Beth  redy  for  to  mete  him  evermore. 
Thus  taughte  me  my  dame,  I  say  no  more. 

part  of  it  upon  his  father's  Abbey  of  Hailes,  and  sometime  after  gave 
the  other  two  parts  to  an  Abbey  of  his  own  foundation  at  Ashrug  near 
Berkhamsted.     Hollinsh.  v.  ii.  p.  275. — Tyrxrhitt. 

1  The  common  reading  is  thilke  bones.  The  alteration,  which  I  have 
ventured  to  make,  is  not  authorized  entirely  by  any  MS.,  but  in  part 
by  several.  Bickel,  as  explained  by  Kilian,  is  Tabu,  ovillus  et  lusorius ; 
and  Birkelen,  talis  ludere.  See  also  Had.  Junii  Komencl.  n.  213.  Our 
dice  indeed  are  the  ancient  tettera,  not  tali;  but,  both  being  games  of 
hazard,  the  implements  of  one  might  be  easily  attributed  to  the  other.  It 
should  seem  from  Junius,  loc.  cit.  that  the  Germans  had  preserved  the 
custom  of  playing  with  the  natural  bones,  as  they  have  different  names 
for  a  game  with  tali  ovillis  and  another  with  .ali  luOuli. — Tyrvhitt. 
8  Forbear. 

29* 


342  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         12619-12660, 

By  Seinte  Marie,  sayd  this  tavemere 
The  child  sayth  soth,  for  he  hath  slain  this  yere 
Hens  over  a  mile,  within  a  gret  village, 
Both  man  and  woman,  child,  and  hyne,1  and  page 
I  trowe  his  habitation  be  there: 
To  ben  avised  gret  wisdome  it  were, 
Or  that  he  did  a  man  a  dishonour. 

Ye,  Goddes  armes,  quod  this  riotour, 
Is  it  swiche  peril  with  him  for  to  mete? 
I  shal  him  seke  by  stile  and  eke  by  strete. 
I  make  a  vow  by  Goddes  digne  bones. 
Herkeneth,  felawes,  we  three  ben  all  ones: 
Let  eche  of  us  hold  up  his  hond  to  other, 
And  eche  of  us  becomen  others  brother, 
And  we  wol  slen  this  false  traitour  deth: 
He  shal  be  slain,  he  that  so  many  sleth, 
By  Goddes  dignitee,  or  it  be  night. 

Togeder  han  thise  three  hir  trouthes  plight 
To  live  and  dien  eche  of  hem  for  other, 
As  though  he  were  his  owen  boren  brother. 
And  up  they  stert  al  dronken  in  this  rage, 
And  forth  they  gon  towardes  that  village, 
Of  which  the  taverner  had  spoke  beforn, 
And  many  a  grisly  oth  than  have  they  sworn, 
And  Cristes  blessed  body  they  to-rent ; 
Deth  shal  be  ded,  if  that  we  may  him  hent. 

Whan  they  han  gon  not  fully  half  a  mile, 
Bight  as  they  wold  han  troden  over  a  stile, 
An  olde  man  and  a  poure  with  hem  mette. 
This  olde  man  ful  mekely  hem  grette, 
And  sayde  thus ;  Now,  lordes,  God  you  see. 

The  proudest  of  thise  riotoures  three 
Answerd  agen ;  What  ?  cherl,  with  sory  grace, 
Why  art  thou  all  forwrapped  save  thy  iace  ? 
Why  livest  thou  so  longe  in  so  gret  age? 

This  olde  man  gan  loke  in  his  visage, 
And  sayde  thus ;  For  I  ne  cannot  finde 
A  man,  though  that  I  walked  into  Inde, 
Neither  in  citee,  ne  in  no  village, 
That  wolde  change  his  youthe  for  min  age ; 
And  therfore  mote  I  han  min  age  still 
As  longe  time  as  it  is  Goddes  wilL 

1  Hind,  servant,  husbandman. 


12661-]2702.  THE  PARDONERES  TALE.  343 

Ne  deth,  alas !  ne  will  not  han  my  lif. 
Thus  walke  I  like  a  resteles  caitif, 
And  on  the  ground,  which  is  my  modres  gate 
I  knocke  with  my  staf,  erlich  and  late, 
And  say  to  hire,  Leve  mother,  let  me  in. 
Lo,  how  I  vanish,  flesh,  and  blood,  and  skin ; 
Alas!  whan  shul  my  bones  ben  at  reste1? 
Mother,  with  you  wold  I  changen  my  cheste, 
That  in  my  chambre  longe  time  hath  be, 
Ye,  for  an  heren1  clout  to  wrap  in  me. 
But  yet  to  me  she  wol  not  don  that  grace, 
For  which  ful  pale  and  welked2  is  my  face. 

But,  sires,  to  you  it  is  no  curtesie 
To  speke  unto  an  olde  man  vilanie, 
But  he  trespase  in  word  or  elles  in  dede. 
In  holy  writ  ye  moun  yourselven  rede ; 
Ageins3  an  olde  man,  hore  upon  his  hede, 
Ye  shuld  arise :  therfore  I  yeve  you  rede, 
Ne  doth  unto  an  olde  man  non  harm  now, 
No  more  than  that  ye  wold  a  man  did  you 
In  age,  if  that  ye  may  so  long  abide. 
And  God  be  with  you,  wher  ye  go  or  ride. 
I  moste  go  thider  as  I  have  to  go. 

Nay,  olde  cherl,  by  God  thou  shalt  not  so, 
Sayde  this  other  hasardour  anon ; 
Thou  partest  not  so  lightly  by  Seint  John. 
Thou  spake  right  now  of  thilke  traitour  deth, 
That  in  this  contree  all  our  frendes  sleth ; 
Have  here  my  trouth  as  thou  art  his  espie 
Tell  wher  he  is,  or  thou  shalt  it  abie, 
By  God  and  by  the  holy  Sacrement ; 
For  sothly  thou  art  on  of  his  assent 
To  slen  us  yonge  folk,  thou  false  thefe. 

Now,  sires,  quod  he,  if  it  be  you  so  lefe 
To  finden  deth,  tourne  up  this  croked  wayy 
For  in  that  grove  I  left  him  by  my  fay 
Under  a  tree,  and  ther  he  wol  abide ; 
Ne  for  your  bost'  he  wol  him  nothing  hide. 
Se  ye  that  oke  ?  right  ther  ye  shuln  him  find, 
God  save  you,  that  bought  agen  mankind, 
And  you  amende ;  thus  sayd  this  olde  man. 

And  everich  of  thise  riotoures  ran, 

»  Hairy,  »  Withered. 

*  Before.  *  Pride,  boasting. 


344  THE  CANTERBUBY  TALES.         12703-12744. 

Til  they  came  to  the  tree,  and  ther  they  found 
Of  Floreins  fine  of  gold  ycoined  round, 
Wei  nigh  an  eighte  bushels,  as  hem  thought. 
No  lenger  as  than  after  dethe  they  sought, 
But  echo  of  hem  so  glad  was  of  the  sight, 
For  that  the  floreins  ben  so  faire  and  bright, 
That  doun  they  sette  hem  by  the  precious  hord. 
The  werste  of  hem  he  spake  the  firste  word. 

Brethren,  quod  he,  take  kepe  what  I  shal  say, 
My  wit  is  gret,  though  that  I  bourde1  and  play. 
This  tresour  hath  fortune  unto  us  yeven 
In  mirth  and  jolitee  our  lif  to  liven, 
And  lightly  as  it  cometh,  so  wol  we  spend, 
Ey,  Goddes  precious  dignitee,  who  wend 
To-day,  that  we  shuld  han  so  faire  a  grace  ? 
But  might  this  gold  be  caried  fro  this  placa 
Home  to  myn  hous,  or  elles  unto  youres, 
(For  wel  I  wote  that  all  this  gold  is  oures) 
Thanne  were  we  in  high  felicitee. 
But  trewely  by  day  it  may  not  be; 
Men  wolden  say  that  we  were  theeves  strong 
And  for  our  owen  tresour  don  us  hong. 
This  tresour  must  ycaried  be  by  night 
As  wisely  and  as  sleighly  as  it  might. 
Wherfore  I  rede,  that  cut  among  us  alle 
We  drawe,  and  let  see  wher  the  cut  wol  falla 
And  he  that  hath  the  cut,  with  herte  blith, 
Shal  rennen  to  the  toun,  and  that  ful  awith,3 
And  bring  us  bred  and  win  ful  prively: 
And  two  of  us  shal  kepen  subtilly 
This  tresour  wel :  and  if  he  wol  not  tarien, 
Whan  it  is  night,  we  wol  this  tresour  carien 
By  on  assent,  wher  as  us  thinketh  best. 

That  on  of  hem  the  cut  brought  in  his  fest, 
And  bad  hem  drawe  and  loke  wher  it  wold  falle, 
And  it  fell  on  the  yongest  of  hem  alle : 
And  forth  toward  the  toun  he  went  anon. 
And  al  so  sone  as  that  he  was  agon, 
That  on  of  hem  spake  thus  unto  that  other ; 
Thou  wotest  wel  thou  art  my  sworen  brother, 
Thy  profite  wol  I  tell  thee  right  anon.     • 
Thou  wost  wel  that  our  felaw  is  agon, 

i  Jest  I  Quickly 


12745-12786.  THE   PARDONERES  TALE.  3i5 

And  here  is  gold,  and  that  ful  gret  plentee, 
That  shal  departed  ben  among  us  three. 
But  natheles,  if  I  can  shape  it  so, 
That  it  departed  were  among  us  two, 
Had  I  not  don  a  frendes  turn  to  thee  ? 

That  other  answerd,  I  n'ot  how  that  may  be: 
He  wote  wel  that  the  gold  is  with  us  tweye. 
What  shuln  we  don?  what  shuln  we  to  him  seye? 

Shal  it  be  conseil  ?  sayd  the  firste  shrewe  j 
And  I  shal  tellen  thee  in  wordes  fewe 
What  we  shul  don,  and  bring  it  wel  aboute. 

I  grante,  quod  that  other,  out  of  doute, 
That  by  my  trouth  I  wol  thee  not  bewreie.1 

Now,  quod  the  first,  thou  wost  wel  we  ben  tweie, 
And  tweie  of  us  shul  strenger  be  than  on. 
Loke,  whan  that  he  is  set,  thou  right  anon 
Arise,  as  though  thou  woldest  with  him  play; 
And  I  shal  rive  him  thurgh  the  sides  tway, 
While  that  thou  stroglest-  with  him  as  in  game, 
And  with  thy  dagger  loke  thou  do  the  same 
And  than  shal  all  this  gold  departed  be, 
My  dere  frend,  betwixen  thee  and  me : 
Than  moun  we  bothe  our  lustes  al  ful  fi  lie, 
And  play  at  dis  right  at  our  owen  wille. 
And  thus  accorded  ben  thise  shrewes  tweye, 
To  slen  the  thridde,  as  ye  han  herd  me  seye. 

This  yongest,  which  that  wente  to  the  toun, 
Ful  oft  in  herte  he  rolleth  up  and  doun 
The  beautee  of  thise  floreins  newe  and  bright. 
O  Lord,  quod  he,  if  so  were  that  I  might 
Have  all  this  tresour  to  myself  alone, 
Ther  n'is  no  man  that  liveth  under  the  trone 
Of  God,  that  shulde  live  so  mery  as  L 
And  at  the  last  the  fend  our  enemy 
Putte  in  his  thought,  that  he  shuld  poison  beye,* 
With  which  he  mighte  slen  his  felaws  tweye. 
For  why,  the  fend  fond  him  in  swiche  living, 
That  he  had  leve  to  sorwe  him  to  bring. 
For  this  was  outrely  his  ful  entente 
To  slen  hem  both,  and  never  to  repente. 

And  forth  he  goth,  no  lenger  wold  he  tary, 
Into  the  toun  unto  a  Potecary, 

1  Betray.  »  Buy. 


346  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.        12787-12828. 

And  praied  him  that  he  him  wolde  sell 
Som  poison,  that  he  might  his  ratouns  quelL 
And  eke  ther  was  a  polkat  in  his  hawe, 
That,  as  he  sayd,  his  capons  had  yslawe : 
And  fayn  he  wolde  him  wreken,  if  he  might, 
Of  vermine,  that  destroied  hem  hy  night. 

The  Potecary  answerd,  Thou  shalt  have 
A  thing,  as  wisly  God  my  soule  save, 
In  all  this  world  ther  n'is  no  creature, 
That  ete  or  dronke  hath  of  this  confecture, 
Not  but  the  mountance1  of  a  come  of  whete, 
That  he  ne  shal  his  lif  anon  forlete ; 
Ye,  sterve  he  shal,  and  that  in  lesse  while, 
Than  thou  wolt  gon  a  pas  not  but  a  mile : 
This  poison  is  so  strong  and  violent. 

This  cursed  man  hath  in  his  hond  yhent 
This  poison  in  a  box,  and  swithe  he  ran 
Into  the  nexte  strete  unto  a  man, 
And  borwed  of  him  large  botelles  three ; 
And  in  the  two  the  poison  poured  he ; 
The  thridde  he  kepte  clene  for  his  drinke, 
For  all  the  night  he  shope  him  for  to  swinke 
In  carying  of  the  gold  out  of  that  place. 

And  whan  this  riotour,  with  sory  grace, 
Hath  filled  with  win  his  grete  botelles  three, 
To  his  felawes  agen  repaireth  he. 

What  nedeth  it  therof  to  sermon  more  ? 
For  right  as  they  had  cast  his  deth  before, 
Eight  so  they  han  him  slain,  and  that  anon. 
And  whan  that  this  was  don,  thus  spake  that  on; 
Now  let  us  sit  and  drinke,  and  make  us  mery, 
And  afterward  we  wiln  his  body  bery. 
And  with  that  word  it  happed  him  par  cos, 
To  take  the  botelle,  ther  the  poison  was, 
And  dronke,  and  yave  his  felaw  drinke  also, 
For  which  anon  they  storven  bothe  two. 

But  certes  I  suppose  that  Avicenne 
Wrote  never  in  no  canon,  ne  in  no  fenne, 
Mo  wonder  signes  of  empoisoning, 
Than  had  thise  wretches  two  or  hir  ending. 
Thus  ended  ben  thise  homicides  two, 
And  eke  the  false  empoisoner  also. 

l  Amount,  quantity. 


12829-12872.  THE   PABDONERES  TALE.  347 

O  cursednesse  of  alle  cursednesse  ! 
O  traitours  homicide  !  O  wickednesse ! 

0  glotonie,  luxurie,  and  hasardrie  ! 
Thou  blasphemour  of  Crist  with  vilanie, 
And  othes  grete,  of  usage  and  of  pride ! 
Alas  !  mankinde,  how  may  it  betide, 

That  to  thy  Creatour,  which  that  thee  wrought, 
And  with  his  precious  herte-blood  thee  bought, 
Thou  art  so  false  and  so  unkind,  alas  ! 

Now,  good  men,  God  foryeve  you  your  trespas, 
And  ware  you  fro  the  sinne  of  avarice. 
Min  holy  pardon  may  you  all  warice, 
So  that  ye  offre  nobles  or  starlinges, 
Or  elles  silver  broches,  spones,  ringes. 
Boweth  your  hed  under  this  holy  Bulle. 
Cometh  up,  ye  wives,  and  offreth  of  your  wolle ; 
Your  names  I  entre  here  in  my  roll  anon ; 
Into  the  blisse  of  heven  shul  ye  gon: 

1  you  assoile  by  min  high  powere, 

You  that  wiln  offre,  as  clene  and  eke  as  clere 
As  ye  were  borne.    Lo,  sires,  thus  I  preche; 
And  Jesu  Crist,  that  is  our  soules  lecne, 
So  graunte  you  his  pardon  to  receive ; 
For  that  is  best,  I  wol  you  not  deceive. 

But,  sires,  o  word  forgate  I  in  my  tale ; 
I  have  relikes  and  pardon  in  my  male, 
As  faire  as  any  man  in  Englelond, 
Which  were  me  yeven  by  the  Popes  hond. 
If  any  of  you  wol  of  devotion 
Offren,  and  han  min  absolution, 
Cometh  forth  anon,  and  kneleth  here  adoun, 
And  mekely  receiveth  my  pardoun. 
Or  elles  taketh  pardon,  as  ye  wende, 
Al  newe  and  freshe  at  every  tounes  ende, 
So  that  ye  offren  alway  newe  and  newe, 
Nobles  or  pens,  which  that  ben  good  and  trewflt 
It  is  an  honour  to  everich  that  is  here, 
That  ye  moun  have  a  suffisant  pardoner© 
To  assoilen  you  in  contree  as  ye  ride, 
For  aventures,  which  that  moun  betide. 
Paraventure  ther  may  falle  on,  or  two, 
Doun  of  his  hors,  and  breke  his  necke  atwo. 
Loke,  which  a  seurtee  is  it  to  you  alle, 
That  I  am  in  your  felawship  yfalle, 


348  THE  CANTERBUBY  TALES.         12873-12902. 

That  may  assoile  you  bothe  more  and  lasse, 

Whan  that  the  soule  shal  fro  the  body  passe. 

I  rede  that  our  hoste  shal  beginne, 

For  he  is  most  envoluped  in  sinne. 

Come  forth,  sire  hoste,  and  offre  first  anon, 

And  thou  shalt  kisse  the  relikes  everich  on, 

Ye  for  a  grote ;  unbokel  anon  thy  purse. 

Nay  nay,  quod  he,  than  have  I  Cristes  curse. 
Let  be,  quod  he,  it  shal  not  be,  so  the  ich.1 
Thou  woldest  make  me  kisse  thin  olde  brech, 
And  swere  it  were  a  relike  of  a  seint, 
Though  it  were  with  thy  foundement  depeint. 
But  by  the  crois,  which  that  Seint  Heleine  fond,' 
I  wolde  I  had  thin  coilons  in  min  hond, 
Instede  of  relikes,  or  of  seintuarie. 
Let  cut  hem  of,  I  wol  help  thee  hem  carie ; 
They  shul  be  shrined  in  an  hogges  tord. 

This  Pardoner  answered  not  a  word ; 
So  wroth  he  was,  no  word  ne  wolde  he  say. 

Now,  quod  our  hoste,  I  wol  no  lenger  play 
With  thee,  ne  with  non  other  angry  man. 

But  right  anon  the  worthy  knight  began, 
(Whan  that  he  saw  that  all  the  peple  lough) 
No  more  of  this,  for  it  is  right  ynough. 
Sire  Pardoner,  be  mery  and  glad  of  chere ; 
And  ye,  sire  hoste,  that  ben  to  me  so  dere, 
I  pray  you  that  ye  kisse  the  Pardoner ; 
And,  Pardoner,  I  pray  thee  draw  thee  ner, 
And  as  we  diden,  let  us  laugh  and  play 
Anon  they  kissed,  and  riden  forth  hir  way. 

1  So  may  I  thrive. 
*  Sir  J.  Man  devil  e,  c.  vii.  p.  93,  "  and  nyghe  that  awtier  is  a  place 
nndre  erthe,  42  degrees  of  depenesse,  where  the  Holy  Croys  was 
founden,  be  the  wytt  of  Seynte  Elyne,  undir  a  roche,  where  the  Jewea 
bad  hidde  it.  And  that  was  the  veray  croys  assayed ;  for  they  founden 
3  crosses ;  on  of  oure  Lord  and  2  of  the  2  theves  :  and  Seynte  Elyne 
proved  hem  on  a  ded  body,  that  aros  from  dethe  to  lyve,  whan  that  it 
was  lcyd  on  it,  that  oure  Lord  dyed  on."  See  alsoc.ii.p.  lb. — TyrwhiU. 


THE  SHIPMANNES  PROLOGUE. 

12903-12926. 

Our  hoste  upon  his  stirrops  stode  anon 

And  saide ;  Good  men,  herkeneth  everich  on, 

This  was  a  thrifty  tale  for  the  nones. 

Sire  parish  preest,  quod  he,  for  Goddes  bones, 

Tell  us  a  tale,  as  was  thy  forward  yore : 

I  see  wel  that  ye  lerued  men  in  lore 

Can  mochel  good,  by  Goddes  dignitee. 

The  Person  him  answerd,  Benedicite! 
What  eileth  the  man,  so  sinfully  to  swere  ? 

Our  hoste  answerd,  O  Jankin,  be  ye  there  ? 
Now,  good  men,  quod  our  hoste,  herkneth  to  me. 
I  smell  a  loller1  in  the  wind,  quod  he. 
Abideth  for  Goddes  digne  passion, 
For  we  shul  han  a  predication: 
This  loller  here  wol  prechen  us  somwhat. 

Nay  by  my  fathers  soule,  that  shal  he  nat, 
Sayde  the  Shipman,  here  shal  he  nat  preche, 
He  shal  no  gospel  glosen  here  ne  teche. 
"We  leven  all  in  the  gret  God,  quod  he. 
He  wolde  sowen  som  difficultee, 
Or  springen  cockle2  in  our  clene  corne. 
And  therfore,  hoste,  I  warne  thee  beforne, 
My  joly  body  shal  a  tale  telle, 
And  I  shal  clinken  you  so  mery  a  belle, 

•  This  is  in  character,  as  appears  from  a  treatise  of  the  time.  Harl. 
Catal.  n.  lGCt>.  "Now  in  Engelond  it  is  a  comun  protectioun  aycns 
persecutioun — if  a  man  is  customable  to  swere  nedeles  and  fais  and  un- 
avised,  by  the  bones,  nailes,  and  sides  and  other  membres  of  Crist. — 
And  to  atwteyne  fro  othes  nedelcs  and  unleful, — and  repreve  sinne  by 
way  of  charite,  is  mater  and  cause  now,  why  Prelates  and  snm  Lordes 
sclaundren  men,  and  clepen  hem  LolUirdei,  Eretikes,"  &c. — TyrwhiU. 

3  Springen  cockle.  This  seems  to  shew  that  Chaucer  considered 
Loller,  as  derived  from  folium;  but  Du  Cange,  in  v.  Loixardus,  rather 
supposes  that  Lollard  was  a  word  of  German  original,  signifying  miw- 
litator;  a  mumUer  of  prayers.  See  also  Kilian,  in  v.  Lol&axrd. — 
Tyrtchitt. 

30 


350  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  12027-12862. 

That  I  shal  waken  all  this  compagnie: 
But  it  shal  not  ben  of  philosophic, 
Ne  of  physike,  ne  termes  queinte  of  la  wo 
Ther  is  but  litel  Latin  in  my  mawe. 


Skiumanws  $&I*. 


A  Marchant  whilom  dwelled  at  Seint  Denise, 
That  riche  was,  for  which  men  held  him  wise. 
A  wif  he  had  of  excellent  beautee, 
And  compaignable,  and  revelous  was  she, 
Which  is  a  thing  that  causeth  more  dispence, 
Than  worth  is  all  the  chere  and  reverence, 
That  men  hem  don  at  festes  and  at  dances. 
Swiche  salutations  and  contenances 
Passen,  as  doth  a  shad  we  upon  the  wall : 
But  wo  is  him  that  payen  mote  for  all. 
The  sely  husbond  algate  he  mote  pay, 
He  mote  us  clothe  and  he  mote  us  array 
All  for  his  owen  worship  richely: 
In  which  array  we  dancen  jolily. 
And  if  that  he  may  not  paraventure, 
Or  elles  lust  not  swiche  dispence  endure, 
But  thinketh  it  is  wasted  and  ylost, 
Than  mote  another  payen  for  our  cost, 
Or  lene  us  gold,  and  that  is  perilous. 

This  noble  Marchant  held  a  worthy  hous, 
For  which  he  had  all  day  so  gret  repaire 
For  his  largesse,  and  for  his  wif  was  faire, 
That  wonder  is :  but  herkeneth  to  my  tale. 

Amonges  all  thise  gestes  gret  and  sraale, 
Ther  was  a  Monk,  a  faire  man  and  a  bold, 
I  trow  a  thritty  winter  he  was  old, 
That  ever  in  on  was  drawing  to  that  place. 
This  yonge  Monk,  that  was  so  faire  of  face 
Acquainted  was  so  with  this  goode  man, 
Sithen  that  hir  firste  knowlege  began, 
That  in  his  hous  as  familier  was  he, 
As  it  possible  is  any  frend  to  be. 


12963-13004.  THE  SHIPMANNES  TALE.  351 

And  for  as  mochel  as  this  goode  man 
And  eke  this  Monk,  of  which  that  I  began, 
Were  bothe  two  yborne  in  o  village, 
The  Monk  him  claimeth,  as  for  cosinage, 
And  he  again  him  sayd  not  ones  nay, 
But  was  as  glad  therof,  as  foule  of  day ; 
For  to  his  herte  it  was  a  gret  plesance. 

Thus  ben  they  knit  with  eterne  alliance, 
And  eche  of  hem  gan  other  for  to  ensure 
Of  brotherhed,  while  that  hire  lif  may  dure. 

Free  was  Dan1  John,  and  namely  of  dispence 
As  in  that  hous,  and  ful  of  diligence 
To  don  plesance,  and  also  gret  costage: 
He  not  fbrgate  to  yeve  the  leste  page 
In  all  that  hous ;  but,  after  hir  degree, 
He  yave  the  lord,  and  sithen  his  meinee, 
Whan  that  he  came,  som  maner  honest  thing ; 
For  which  they  were  as  glad  of  his  coming 
As  foule  is  fayn,  whan  that  the  Sonne  up  riseth. 
No  more  of  this  as  now,2  for  it  sufficeth. 

But  so  befell,  this  Marchant  on  a  day 
Shope  him  to  maken  redy  his  array 
Toward  the  toun  of  Brugges  for  to  fare, 
To  byen  ther  a  portion  of  ware : 
For  which  he  hath  to  Paris  sent  anon 
A  messager,  and  praied  hath  Dan  John 
That  he  shuld  come  to  Seint  Denis,  and  pleie 
With  him,  and  with  his  wif,  a  day  or  tweie, 
Or  he  to  Brugges  went,  in  alle  wise. 

This  noble  Monk,  of  which  I  you  devise, 
Hath  of  his  Abbot,  as  him  list,  licence, 
(Because  he  was  a  man  of  high  prudence, 
And  eke  an  officer  out  for  to  ride, 
To  seen  hir  granges,3  and  hir  bernes  wide) 
And  unto  Seint  Denis  he  cometh  anon. 

Who  was  so  welcome  as  my  lord  Dan  John 
Our  dere  cousin,  ful  of  curtesie  ? 
With  him  he  brought  a  jubbe  of  Malvesie,4 
And  eke  another  ful  of  fine  Vernage, 
And  volatile,  as  ay  was  his  usage : 
And  thus  I  let  hem  ete,  and  drinke,  and  pleye, 
This  marchant  and  this  monk,  a  day  or  tweye 

1  Lord.  3  At  present. 

3  Farmhouses.  *  See  on  vs.  9681. 


352  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         13005-13046. 

The  thridde  day  this  marchant  up  ariseth, 
And  on  his  nedes  sadly  him  aviseth : 
And  up  into  his  countour  hous  goth  he, 
To  reken  with  himselven,  wel  may  be, 
Of  thilke  yere,  how  that  it  with  him  stood, 
And  how  that  he  dispended  had  his  good 
And  it  that  he  encresed  were  or  non. 
His  bookes  and  his  hagges  many  on 
He  layth  beforn  him  on  his  counting  bord. 
Fill  riche  was  his  tresour  and  his  hord ; 
For  which  ful  fast  his  countour  dore  he  shet; 
And  eke  he  n'olde  no  man  shuld  him  let 
Of  his  accountes,  for  the  mene  time : 
And  thus  he  sit,  till  it  was  passed  prime. 

Dan  John  was  risen  in  the  morwe  also, 
And  in  the  gardin  walketh  to  and  fro, 
And  hath  bis  thinges  sayd  ful  curteisly. 

This  goode  wif  came  walking  prively 
Into  the  gardin,  ther  he  walketh  soft, 
And  him  salueth,  as  she  hath  don  oft: 
A  maiden  child  came  in  hire  compagnie, 
Which  as  hire  lust  she  may  governe  and  gie, 
For  yet  under  the  yerde1  was  the  maide. 

O  dere  cosin  min  Dan  John,  she  saide 
What  aileth  you  so  rathe2  for  to  arise  ? 

Nece,  quod  he,  it  ought  ynough  suffise 
Five  houres  for  to  slepe  upon  a  night: 
But  it  were  for  an  olde  appalled  wight, 
As  ben  thise  wedded  men,  that  lie  and  dare,' 
As  in  a  fourme  sitteth  a  wery  hare, 
Were  al  forstraught  with  houndes  gret  and  smale. 
But,  dere  nece,  why  be  ye  so  pale  ? 
I  trowe  certes,  that  our  goode  man 
Hath  you  laboured,  sith  this  night  began, 
That  you  were  nede  to  resten  hastily. 
And  with  that  word  he  lough  ful  merily, 
And  of  his  owen  thought  he  wexe  all  red. 

This  faire  wif  gan  for  to  shake  hire  hed, 
And  saied  thus  ;  Ye,  God  wote  all,  quod  she. 
Nay,  cosin  min,  it  stant  not  so  with  me. 
For  by  that  God,  that  yave  me  soule  and  lit, 
In  all  the  reame  of  Fraunce  is  ther  no  wif, 

i  I.e.,  under  control.    Compare  the  Latin.  mbferuUt. 
«  Early.  3  Stare, 


13047-130S8.  THE   SHIPMANNES  TALE.  353 

That  lasse  lust  hath  to  that  sory  play  ; 

For  I  may  singe  alas  and  wala  wa 

That  I  was  borne,  but  to  no  wight  (quod  she) 

Dare  I  not  tell  how  that  it  stant  with  me. 

Wherfore  I  thinke  out  of  this  lond  to  wende, 

Or  elles  of  myself  to  make  an  ende. 

So  ful  am  I  of  drede  and  eke  of  care. 

This  monk  began  upon  this  wif  to  stare, 
And  sayd,  Alas  !  my  nece,  God  forbede, 
That  ye  for  any  sorwe,  or  any  drede, 
Fordo1  yourself:  but  telleth  me  your  grefe, 
Paraventure  I  may  in  your  mischefe 
Conseile  or  helpe :  and  therfore  telleth  me 
All  your  annoy,  for  it  shal  ben  secree. 
For  on  my  Portos2  here  I  make  an  oth, 
That  never  in  my  lif,  for  lefe  ne  loth,3 
Ne  shal  I  of  no  conseil  you  bewray. 

The  same  agen  to  you,  quod  she,  I  say. 
By  God  and  by  this  Portos  I  you  swere, 
Though  men  me  wolden  all  in  peces  tere, 
Ne  shal  I  never,  for  to  gon  to  helle, 
Bewrey  o  word  of  thing  that  ye  me  tell, 
Nought  for  no  cosinage,  ne  alliance, 
But  veraily  for  love  and  affiance. 
Thus  ben  they  sworne,  and  hereupon  they  kiste, 
And  eche  of  hem  told  other  what  hem  liste. 

Cosin,  quod  she,  if  that  I  had  a  space, 
As  I  have  non,  and  namely  in  this  place, 
Than  wold  I  tell  a  legend  of  my  lif, 
What  I  have  suffred  sith  I  was  a  wif 
With  min  husbond,  al  be  he  your  cosin. 

Nay,  quod  this  monk,  by  God  and  Seint  Martin, 
He  n'is  no  more  cosin  unto  me, 
Than  is  the  leef  that  hangeth  on  the  tree: 
I  clepe  him  so  by  Seint  Denis  of  France 
To  han  the  more  cause  of  acquaintance 
Of  you,  which  I  have  loved  specially 
Aboven  alle  women  sikerly, 
This  swere  I  you  on  my  professioun: 
Telleth  your  grefe,  lest  that  he  come  adoun, 
And  hasteth  you,  and  goth  away  anon. 

My  dere  love,  quod  she,  o  my  Dan  John, 

1  Undo,  ruin.  "  I.e.,  my  Breviary.  *  Will  or  nilL 

30* 


354  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  13089-13124. 

Ful  lefe  were  me  this  conseil  for  to  hide, 
But  out  it  mote,  I  may  no  lenger  abide. 

Myn  husbond  is  to  me  the  werste  man, 
That  ever  was  sith  that  the  world  began: 
But  sith  I  am  a  wif,  it  sit  not  me 
To  tellen  no  wight  of  our  privetee, 
Neither  in  bed,  ne  in  non  other  place; 
God  shilde  I  shulde  it  tellen  for  his  grace ; 
A  wif  ne  shal  not  sayn  of  hire  husbond 
But  all  honour,  as  I  can  understond ; 
Save  unto  you  thus  moch  I  tellen  shal : 
As  helpe  me  God,  he  is  nought  worth  at  all, 
In  no  degree,  the  value  of  a  flie. 
But  yet  me  greveth  most  his  nigardie : 
And  wel  ye  wot,  that  women  naturally 
Desiren  thinges  sixe,  as  wel  as  I. 
They  wolden  that  hir  husbondes  shulden  be 
Hardy,  and  wise,  and  riche,  and  therto  free, 
And  buxome1  to  his  wif,  and  fresh  a-bedde. 
But  by  that  ilke  Lord  that  for  us  bledde, 
For  his  honour  myselven  for  to  array, 
A  sonday  next  I  muste  nedes  pay 
An  hundred  franks,  or  elles  am  I  lorne. 
Yet  were  me  lever  that  I  were  unborne, 
Than  me  were  don  a  sclandre  or  vilanie. 
And  if  min  husbond  eke  might  it  espie, 
I  n'ere  but  lost ;  and  therfore  I  you  prey 
Lene  me  this  summe,  or  elles  mote  I  dey. 
Dan  John,  I  say,  lene  me  this  hundred  frankes ; 
Parde  I  wol  not  faille  you  my  thankes, 
If  that  you  list  to  do  that  I  you  pray. 
For  at  a  certain  day  I  wol  you  pay, 
And  do  to  you  what  plesance  and  service 
That  I  may  don,  right  as  you  list  devise: 
And  but  I  do,  God  take  on  me  vengeance, 
As  foule  as  ever  had  Genelon2  of  France. 

1  Obedient,  ready. 
One  o  fCharlemaigne't  officers,  who,  by  his  treachery,  was  the  cause 
of  the  defeat  at  Roncevaux,  the  death  of  Roland,  &c.,  for  which  he  was 
torn  to  pieces  by  liors'W.  This  at  least  is  the  account  of  the  author  who 
calls  himself  Archbishop  Turpin,  and  of  the  Romancers  who  followed 
him  ;  upon  whose  credit  the  name  of  Genelon,  or  Ganelon,  was  for  several 
centuries  a  synonymous  expression  for  the  tcortt  of  traitor*.  Our  author 
alludes  to  his  treachery,  vcr.  14699, 15233,  and  to  his  punishment,  ver. 
12124.     See  also  Du,  1121.— Tyrwhitt, 


13125-13166.  THE  SHIPMANNES  TALE.  355 

This  gentil  monk  answerd  in  this  manere, 
Now  trewely,  min  owen  lady  dere, 
I  have  (quod  he)  on  you  so  grete  a  routhe, 
That  I  you  swere,  and  plighte  you  my  trouthe, 
That  whan  your  husbond  is  to  Flandres  fare, 
I  wol  deliver  you  out  of  this  care, 
For  I  wol  bringen  you  an  hundred  frankes. 
And  with  that  word  he  caught  hire  by  the  flankes, 
And  hire  embraced  hard,  and  kiste  hire  oft. 
Goth  now  your  way,  quod  he,  al  stille  and  soft 
And  let  us  dine  as  sone  as  that  ye  may, 
For  by  my  kalender  it  is  prime  of  day : 
Goth  now,  and  beth  as  trewe  as  I  shal  be. 

Now  elles  God  forbede,  sire,  quod  she ; 
And  forth  she  goth,  as  joly  as  a  pie, 
And  bad  the  cokes  that  they  shuld  hem  hie, 
So  that  men  mighten  dine,  and  that  anon 
Up  to  hire  husbond  is  this  wif  ygon, 
And  knocketh  at  his  countour  boldely. 
Qui  est  la  ?l  quod  he.     Peter,  it  am  I, 
Quod  she.    What,  sire,  how  longe  wol  ye  fast  ? 
How  longe  time  wol  ye  reken  and  cast 
Your  summes,  and  your  bookes,  and  your  thinges  ? 
The  devil  have  part  of  all  swiche  rekeninges. 
Ye  han  ynough  parde  of  Goddes  sonde. 
Come  doun  to-day,  and  let  your  bagges  stonde. 
Ne  be  ye  not  ashamed,  that  Dan  John 
Shal  fasting  all  this  day  elenge  gon  1 
What  ?  let  us  here  a  masse,  and  go  we  dine. 

Wif,  quod  this  man,  litel  canst  thou  divine 
The  curious  besinesse  that  we  have : 
For  of  us  chapmen,  all  so  God  me  save, 
And  by  that  lord  that  cleped  is  Seint  Ive, 
Scarsly  amonges  twenty  ten  shul  thrive 
Continuelly,  lasting  unto  oure  age. 
We  moun  wel  maken  chere  and  good  visage, 
And  driven  forth  the  world  as  it  may  be, 
And  kepen  our  estat  in  privitee, 
Til  we  be  ded,  or  elles  that  we  play 
A  pilgrimage,  or  gon  out  of  the  way. 
And  therfore  have  I  gret  necessitee 
Upon  this  queinte  world  to  avisen  me. 

»  Who's  there  P 


356  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         13167-13208. 

For  evermore  mote  we  stond  in  drede 
Of  hap  and  fortune  in  our  chapmanhede. 

To  Flandres  wol  I  go  to-morwe  at  day, 
And  come  agein  as  sone  as  ever  I  may: 
For  which,  my  dere  wif,  I  thee  beseke 
As  be  to  every  wight  buxom  and  nieke, 
And  for  to  kepe  our  good  be  curious, 
And  honestly  governe  wel  our  hous. 
Thou  hast  ynough,  in  every  maner  wise, 
That  to  a  thrifty  houshold  may  suffice 
Thee  lacketh  non  array,  ne  no  vitaiile ; 
Of  silver  in  thy  purse  shalt  thou  not  faille. 
And  with  that  word  his  countour  dore  he  shette, 
And  doun  he  goth ;  no  lenger  wold  he  lette; 
And  hastily  a  masse  was  ther  saide, 
And  spedily  the  tables  were  ylaide, 
And  to  the  diner  faste  they  hem  spedde, 
And  richely  this  monk  the  chapman  fedde. 

And  after  diner  Dan  John  sobrely 
This  chapman  toke  apart,  and  prively 
He  said  him  thus ;  Cosin,  it  stondeth  so, 
That,  wel  I  see,  to  Brugges  ye  wol  go, 
God  and  Seint  Austin  spede  you  and  gide. 
I  pray  you,  cosin,  wisely  that  ye  ride  ; 
Governeth  you  also  of  your  diete 
Attemprely,  and  namely1  in  this  hete. 
Betwix  us  two  nedeth  no  strange  fare ; 
Farewel,  cosin,  God  shilde  you  fro  care. 
If  any  thing  ther  be  by  day  or  night, 
If  it  lie  in  my  power  and  my  might, 
That  ye  me  wol  command  in  any  wise, 
It  shal  be  don,  right  as  ye  wol  devise. 

But  o  thing  or  ye  go,  if  it  may  be, 
I  wolde  prayen  you  for  to  lene  me 
An  hundred  frankes  for  a  weke  or  tweye, 
For  certain  bestes  that  I  muste  beye, 
To  storen  with  a  place  that  is  oures : 
(God  helpe  me  so,  I  wold  that  it  were  youres) 
I  shal  not  faille  suVely  of  my  day, 
Not  for  a  thousand  frankes,  a  mile  way. 
But  let  this  thing  be  secree,  I  you  preye ; 
For  yet  to-night  thise  bestes  mote  I  beye.8 

1  Especially.  <       3  Buy. 


1320C-13250.  THE  8HIPMANNES  TALE.  307 

And  fare  now  wel,  min  owen  cosin  dere, 
Grand  mercy  of  your  cost  and  of  your  chere. 

This  noble  marchant  geutiliy  anon 
Auswerd  and  said,  O  cosin  min  Dan  John, 
Now  sikerly  this  is  a  smal  requester 
My  gold  is  youres,  whan  that  it  you  leste, 
And  not  only  my  gold,  but  my  chaffare : 
Take  what  you  lest,  God  shilde  that  ye  spare. 
But  o  thing  is,  yeknow  it  wel  ynough 
Of  chapmen,  that  hir  money  is  hir  plough. 
We  moun  creancen1  while  we  han  a  name, 
But  goodies  for  to  ben  it  is  no  game. 
Pay  it  agen,  whan  it  lith  in  your  ese ; 
After  my  might  tul  fayn  wold  I  you  plese. 

Thise  hundred  frankes  let  he  forth  anon, 
And  prively  he  toke  hem  to  Dan  John: 
No  wight  in  al  this  world  wist  of  this  lone, 
Saving  this  marchant,  and  Dan  John  alone. 
They  drinke,  and  speke,  and  rome  a  while  and  pleye, 
Til  that  Dan  John  rideth  to  his  abbeye. 

The  morwe  came,  and  forth  this  marchant  rideth 
To  Flandres  ward,  his  prentis  wel  him  gideth, 
Til  he  came  in  to  Brugges  merily. 
Now  goth  this  marchant  faste  and  besily 
About  his  nede,  and  bieth,  and  creanceth ; 
He  neither  playeth  at  the  dis,  ne  danceth ; 
But  as  a  marchant,  shortly  for  to  tell, 
He  ledeth  his  lif,  and  ther  I  let  him  dwell. 

The  sonday  next  the  marchant  was  agon, 
To  Seint  Denis  yeomen  is  Dan  John, 
With  croune  and  berde  all  fresh  and  newe  yshave. 
In  all  the  hous  ther  n'as  so  litel  a  knave, 
Ne  no  wight  elles,  that  he  n'as  ful  fain, 
For  that  my  lord  Dan  John  was  come'  again. 
And  shortly  to  the  point  right  for  to  gon, 
This  faire  wif  accordeth  with  Dan  John, 
That  for  thise  hundred  frankes  he  shuld  all  night 
Haven  hire  in  his  armes  bolt-upright: 
And  this  accord  parformed  was  in  dede. 
In  mirth  all  night  a  besy  lif  they  lede 
Til  it  was  day,  that  Dan  John  yede  his  way, 
And  bad  the  meinie2  farewel,  have  good  day. 

1  Borrow  money.  J  Servant*. 


358  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  13251-13290. 

For  non  of  hem,  ne  no  wight  in  the  toun, 
Hath  of  Dan  John  right  non  suspectioun; 
And  forth  he  rideth  home  to  his  abbey, 
Or  wher  him  liste,  no  more  of  him  I  sey. 

This  marchant,  whan  that  ended  was  the  faire, 
To  Seint  Denis  he  gan  for  to  repaire, 
And  with  his  wif  he  maketh  feste  and  chere, 
And  telleth  hire  that  chaffare  is  so  dere, 
That  nedes  muste  he  make  a  chevisance,1 
For  be  was  bonde  in  a  recognisance, 
To  payen  twenty  thousand  sheldes2  anon. 
For  which  this  marchant  is  to  Paris  gon 
To  borwe  of  certain  frendes  that  he  hadde 
A  certain  frankes,3  and  som  with  him  he  ladde. 
And  whan  that  he  was  come  in  to  the  toun, 
For  gret  chiertee  and  gret  affectioun 
Unto  Dan  John  he  goth  him  first  to  pleye ; 
Not  for  to  axe  or  borwe  of  him  moneye, 
But  for  to  wete  and  seen  of  his  welfare, 
And  for  to  tellen  him  of  his  chaffare, 
As  frendes  don,  whan  they  ben  mette  in  fere.4 

Dan  John  him  maketh  feste  and  mery  chere ; 
And  he  him  tolde  agen  ful  specially, 
How  he  had  wel  ybought  and  graciously 
(Thanked  be  God)  all  hole  his  marchandise : 
Save  that  he  must  in  alle  manere  wise 
Maken  a  chevisance,  as  for  his  beste: 
And  than  he  shulde  ben  in  joye  and  reste. 
Dan  John  answered,  Certes  I  am  fain,5 
That  ye  in  hele  be  comen  home  again : 
And  if  that  I  were  riche,  as  have  I  blisse, 
Of  twenty  thousand  sheldes  shuld  ye  not  misse, 
For  ye  so  kindely  this  other  day 
Lente  me  gold,  and  as  I  can  and  may 
I  thanke  you,  by  God  and  by  Seint  Jame. 
But  natheles  I  toke  unto  our  Dame, 
Your  wif  at  home,  the  same  gold  again 
Upon  your  benche,  she  wote  it  wel  certain, 
By  certain  tokenes  that  I  can  hire  tell. 
Now  by  your  leve,  I  may  no  lenger  dwell; 

1  An  agreement  for  borrowing  money. 

3  Crowns,  so  called  from  one  side  of  them  bearing  the  device  of  a  shield. 

s  I.e.,  a  certain  number  of  francs. 

*  Together.  •  Glad. 


13291-13334.  THE   SHIPMANNES   TALE.  359 

Our  abbot  wol  out  of  this  toun  anon, 
And  in  his  compagnie  I  muste  gon. 
Grete  wel  our  dame,  min  owen  nece  swete, 
And  farewel,  dere  cosin,  til  we  mete. 

This  marchant,  which  that  was  ful  ware  and  wise, 
Creanced  hath,  and  paid  eke  in  Paris 
To  certain  Lunibardes  redy  in  hir  hond 
The  summe  of  gold,  and  gate  of  hem  his  bond, 
And  home  he  goth,  mery  as  a  popingay. 
For  wel  he  knew  he  stood  in  swiche  array, 
That  nedes  muste  he  winne  in  that  viage 
A  thousand  frankes,  above  all  his  costage. 

His  wif  ful  redy  mette  him  at  the  gate, 
As  she  was  wont  of  old  usage  algate : 
And  all  that  night  in  mirthe  they  ben  sette, 
For  he  was  riche,  and  clerely  out  of  dette. 
Whan  it  was  day,  this  marchant  gan  enbrace 
His  wif  all  newe,  and  kiste  hire  in  hire  face, 
And  up  he  goth,  and  maketh  it  ful  tough. 
No  more,  quod  she,  by  God  ye  have  ynough: 
And  wantonly  agen  with  him  she  plaide, 
Til  at  the  last  this  marchant  to  hire  saide. 

By  God,  quod  he,  I  am  a  litel  wrothe 
With  you,  my  wif,  although  it  be  me  lothe: 
And  wote  ye  why  1  by  God,  as  that  I  gesse, 
That  ye  ban  made  a  manere  strangenesse 
Betwixen  me  and  my  cosin  Dan  John. 
Ye  shuld  have  warned  me,  or  I  had  gon, 
That  he  you  had  an  hundred  frankes  paide 
By  redy  token :  and  held  him  evil  apaide, 
For  that  I  to  him  spake  of  chevisance: 
(Me  semed  so  as  by  his  contenance) 
But  natheles  by  God  our  heven  king, 
I  thoughte  not  to  axe  of  him  no  thing. 
I  pray  thee,  wif,  ne  do  thou  no  more  so. 
Tell  me  alway,  er  that  I  fro  thee  go, 
If  any  dettour  hath  in  min  absence 
Ypaide  thee,  lest  thurgh  thy  negligence 
I  might  him  axe  a  thing  that  he  hath  paide. 

This  wif  was  not  aferde  ne  affraide, 
But  boldely  she  saide,  and  that  anon ; 
Mary  I  dene  that  false  monk  Dan  John, 
I  kepe  not  of  his  tokenes  never  a  del: 
He  toke  me  certain  gold,  I  wote  it  wel. 


360  THE  CANTERBURY   TALES.  13335-13364. 

What  ?  evil  thedome  on  his  monkes  snoute ! 
For,  God  it  wote,  I  wend  withouten  doute, 
That  he  had  yeve  it  me,  because  of  you, 
To  don  therwith  min  honour  and  my  prow, 
For  cosinage,  and  eke  for  belle  chere 
That  he  hath  had  ful  often  times  here. 
But  sith  I  see  I  stonde  in  swiche  disjoint, 
I  wol  answere  you  shortly  to  the  point. 

Ye  have  mo  slakke  dettours  than  am  I : 
For  I  wol  pay  you  wel  and  redily 
Fro  day  to  day,  and  if  so  be  I  faille, 
I  am  your  wif,  score  it  upon  my  taile, 
And  I  ahal  pay  as  sone  as  ever  I  may. 
For  by  my  trouth,  I  have  on  min  array, 
And  not  in  waste,  bestowed  it  every  del. 
And  for  I  have  bestowed  it  so  wel 
For  your  honour,  for  Goddes  sake  I  say, 
As  beth  not  wrothe,  but  let  us  laugh  and  play. 
Ye  shal  my  joly  body  han  to  wedde: 
By  God  I  n'ill  not  pay  you  but  a-bedde 
Foryeve  it  me,  min  owen  spouse  dere  ; 
Turne  hitherward  and  maketh  better  chere. 

This  marchant  saw  ther  was  no  remedy: 
And  for  to  chide,  it  n'ere  but  a  foly, 
Sith  that  the  thing  may  not  amended  be. 
Now,  wif,  he  said,  and  I  foryeve  it  thee ; 
But  by  thy  lif  ne  be  no  more  so  large  ;* 
Kepe  bet  my  good,  this  yeve  I  thee  in  charge. 
Thus  endeth  now  my  tale,  and  God  us  sende 
Taling  ynough,  unto  our  lives  ende. 


S61 
THE  PRIORESSES  PROLOGUE. 

13365-13389. 

Wel  said  by  corpus  Domini,  quod  our  hoste, 
Now  longe  mote  thou  sailen  by  the  coste, 
Thou  gentil  maister,  gentil  marinere. 
God  give  the  monke  a  thousand  last  quad  yere.1 
A  ha,  felawes,  beth  ware  of  swiche  a  jape. 
The  monke  put- in  the-mannes  hode  an  ape,* 
And  in  his  wiles  eke,  by  Seint  Austin. 
Draweth  no  monkes  more  into  your  in. 

But  now  passe  over,  and  let  us  seke  aboute, 
Who  shal  now  tellen  first  of  all  this  route 
Another  tale :  and  with  that  word  he  said, 
As  curteisly  as  it  had  ben  a  maid, 

My  lady  Prioresse,  by  your  leve, 
So  that  I  wist  I  shuld  you  not  agreve, 
I  wolde  demen,  that  ye  tellen  shold 
A  tale  next,  if  so  were  that  ye  wold. ' 
Now  wol  ye  vouchesauf,  my  lady  dere  ? 

Gladly,  quod  she,  and  saide  as  ye  shul  here. 


%\t  ^wmm  Silt 

O  Lord  our  lord,  thy  name  how  merveilloua 
Is  in  this  large  world  ysprad  !  (quod  she) 
For  not  al  only  thy  laude  precious 
Parfourmed  is  by  men  of  dignitee, 
But  by  the  mouth  of  children  thy  bountee 
Parfourmed  is,  for  on  the  brest  souking 
Somtime  shewen  they  thin  herying.3 

1  I.e.,  God  give  the  monk  a  thousand  last  (i.e.,  burdens,  weights,)  Of 
bad  years — i.e.,  ever  so  much  misfortune. 
8  /.«..  made  a  fool  of  him.  *  Praise. 

3! 


362  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         13390-13429. 

Wherfore  in  laude,  as  T  can  best  and  may, 
Of  thee  and  of  the  white  lily  flour, 
Which  that  thee  bare,  and  is  a  maide  alway, 
To  tell  a  storie  I  wol  do  my  labour ; 
Not  that  I  may  encresen  hire  honour, 
For  she  hireselven  is  honour  and  rote 
Of  bountee,  next  hire  sone,  and  soules  bote.1 

O  mother  maide,  o  maide  and  mother  fre, 
O  bushe  nnbrent,  brenning  in  Moyses  sight, 
That  ravishedest  doun  fro  the  deitee, 
Thurgh  thin  humblesse,  the  gost  that  in  thee  alight : 
Of  whos  vertue,  whan  he  thin  herte  light> 
Conceived  was  the  fathers  sapience : 
Helpe  me  to  tell  it  in  thy  reverence. 

Lady,  thy  bountee,  thy  magnificence, 
Thy  vertue  and  thy  gret  humilitee, 
Ther  may  no  tonge  expresse  in  no  science: 
For  somtime,  lady,  or  men  pray  to  thee, 
Thou  gost  beforn3  of  thy  benignitee, 
And  getest  us  the  light,  of  thy  prayere, 
To  giden  us  unto  thy  sone  so  dere. 

My  conning  ia  so  weke,  o  blisful  queue, 
For  to  declare  thy  grete  worthinesse, 
That  I  ne  may  the  weighte  not  sustene ; 
But  as  a  child  o!  twelf  moneth  old  or  lesse, 
That  can  unnethes3  any  word  expresse, 
Eight  so  fare  I,  and  therfore  I  you  pray, 
Gideth  my  song,  that  I  shal  of  you  say. 

Ther  was  in  Asie,  in  a  gret  citee, 
Amonges  Cristen  folk  a  Jewerie,4 
Sustened  by  a  lord  of  that  contree, 
For  foule  usure,  and  lucre  of  vilanie, 
Hateful  to  Crist,  and  to  his  compagnie : 
And  thurgh  the  strete  men  mighten  ride  and  wende, 
For  it  was  free,  and  open  at  eyther  ende. 

A  litel  scole  of  Cristen  folk  ther  stood 
Doun  at  the  ferther  ende,  in  which  ther  were 
Children  an  hepe  comen  of  Cristen  blood, 
That  lerned  in  that  scole  yere  by  yere, 
Swiche  manere  doctrine  as  men  used  there; 

Profit  *  Goest  before  s  With  difficulty. 

4  Like  our  "  Jewry,"  a  district  inhabited  by  Jews. 


13430-13466.  THE   PRIORESSES  TALE.  363 

This  is  to  say,  to  singen  and  to  rede, 
As  smale  children  don  in  hir  childhede. 

Among  thise  children  was  a  widewes  sone, 
A  litel  clergion,1  sevene  yere  of  age, 
That  day  by  day  to  scole  was  his  wone, 
And  eke  also,  wheras  he  sey  the  image 
Of  Cristes  moder,  had  he  in  usage, 
As  him  was  taught,  to  knele  adoun,  and  say 
Ave  Marie,  as  he  goth  by  the  way. 

Thus  hath  this  widewe  hire  litel  sone  ytaught 
Our  blisful  Lady,  Cristes  moder  dere, 
To  worship  ay,  and  he  forgate  it  naught: 
For  sely2  childe  wol  alway  sone  lere. 
But  ay,  whan  I  remembre  on  this.matere, 
Seint  Nicholas  stant  ever  in  my  presence, 
For  he  so  yong  to  Crist  did  reverence.3 

This  litel  childe  his  litel  book  lerning, 
As  he  sate  in  the  scole  at  his  primere, 
He  Alma  redemptoris  herde  sing, 
As  children  lered  hir  antiphonere:4 
And  as  he  dorst,  he  drow  him  nere  and  nere, 
And  herkened  ay  the  wordes  and  the  note, 
Til  he  the  firste  vers  coude5  al  by  rote. 

Nought  wist  he  what  this  Latin  was  to  say, 
For  he  so  yonge  and  tendre  was  of  age; 
But  on  a  day  his  felaw  gan  he  pray 
To  expounden  him  this  song  in  his  langage, 
Or  telle  him  why  this  song  was  in  usage: 
This  prayde  he  him  to  construe  and  declare, 
Ful  often  time  upon  his  knees  bare. 

His  felaw,  which  that  elder  was  than  he, 
Answerd  him  thus:  This  song,  I  have  herd  say, 
"Was  maked  of  our  blisl'ul  Lady  fre, 
Hire  to  salue,  and  eke  hire  for  to  prey 
To  ben  our  help,  and  socour  whan  we  dey. 
I  can  no  more  expound  in  this  matere: 
I  lerne  song,  I  can  but  smal  grammere. 

1  A  young  clerk.  2  Simple. 

*  So  precious  was  the  piety  of  this  Saint,  that,  as  an  infant,  he  only 
6ucked  the  breast  once  on  Wednesdays  and  Fridays. 
4  I.e ,  the  responses  of  the  choral  service.  5  Knew. 


364  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  13467-13506. 

And  is  this  song  maked  in  reverence 
Of  Cristes  moder ?  said  this  innocent; 
Now  certes  I  wol  don  my  diligence 
To  conne  it  ail,  or  Cristemasse  be  went, 
Though  that  I  for  my  primer  shal  be  shent, 
And  shal  be  beten  thries  in  an  houre, 
I  wol  it  conne,  our  Ladie  for  to  honoure. 

His  felaw  taught  him  homeward  prively 
Fro  day  to  day,  til  he  coude  it  by  rote, 
And  than  he  song  it  wel  and  boldely 
Fro  word  to  word  according  with  the  note: 
Twies  a  day  it  passed  thurgh  his  throte, 
To  scolew».rd  and  homeward  whan  he  wente: 
On  Cristes  moder  set  was  his  entente. 

As  I  have  said,  thurghout  the  Jewerie 
This  litel  child  as  he  came  to  and  fro, 
Ful  merily  than  wold  he  sing  and  crie, 
0  Alma  redemptoris,  ever  mo : 
The  swetenesse  hath  his  herte  persed  so 
Of  Cristes  moder,  that  to  hire  to  pray 
He  cannot  stint  of  singing  by  the  way. 

Our  firste  fo,  the  serpent  Sathanas, 
That  hath  in  Jewes  herte  his  waspes  nest, 
Up  swale  and  said,  O  Ebraike2  peple,  alas ! 
Is  this  to  you  a  thing  that  is  honest, 
That  swiche  a  boy  shal  walken  as  him  leste 
In  your  despit,  and  sing  of  swiche  sentence, 
"Which  is  again  our  lawes  reverence  ? 

From  thennesforth  the  Jewes  han  conspired 
This  innocent  out  of  this  world  to  chace: 
An  homicide  therto  han  they  hired, 
That  in  an  aleye  had  a  privee  place, 
And  as  the  child  gan  forthby  for  to  pace, 
This  cursed  Jew  him  heat,  and  held  him  fast, 
And  cut  his  throte,  and  in  a  pit  him  cast. 

I  say  that  in  a  wardrope  they  him  threwe, 
Wher  as  thise  Jewes  purgen  hir  entraille. 
O  cursed  folk,  of  Herodes  alle  newe, 
"What  may  your  evil  entente  you  availle  1 
Mordre  wol  out,  certein  it  wol  not  faille, 
1  Punished.  2  Hebrew. 


13507-13543.  THE  PRIORESSES  TALE.  3G5 

And  namely  ther  the  honour  of  God  shal  sprede: 
The  blood  out  crieth  on  your  cursed  dede. 

O  martyr  souded  in1  virginitee, 
Now  maist  thou  singe,  and  folwen  ever  in  on 
The  white  lamb  celestial,  quod  she, 
Of  which  the  gret  Evangelist  Seint  John 
In  Pathmos  wrote,  which  sayth  that  they  that  gon 
Befom  this  lamb,  and  singe  a  song  al  newe, 
That  never  fleshly  woman  they  ne  knewe. 

This  poure  widewe  awaiteth  al  that  night 
After  hire  litel  childe,  and  he  came  nought: 
For  which  as  sone  as  it  was  dayes  light, 
With  face  pale  of  drede  and  besy  thought, 
She  hath  at  scole  and  elleswher  him  sought, 
Til  finally  she  gan  so  fer  aspie, 
That  he  last  seen  was  in  the  Jewerie. 

With  modres  pitee  in  hire  brest  enclosed 
She  goth,  as  she  were  half  out  of  hire  minde, 
To  every  place,  wher  she  hath  supposed 
By  likelihed  hire  litel  child  to  finde: 
And  ever  on  Cristes  moder  meke  and  kihde 
She  cried,  and  at  the  laste  thus  she  wrought, 
Among  the  cursed  Jewes  she  him  sought. 

She  freyneth*  and  she  praieth  pitously 
To  every  Jew  that  dwelled  in  thilke  place, 
To  telle  hire,  if  hire  child  went  ought  forthby: 
They  sayden,  Nay ;  but  Jesu  of  his  grace 
Yave  in  hire  thought,  within  a  litel  space, 
That  in  that  place  after  hire  sone  she  cride, 
Ther  he  was  cas  ten  in  a  pit  beside. 

O  grete  God,  that  parformest  thy  laude 
By  mouth  of  innocentes,  lo  here  thy  might ! 
This  gemme  of  chastitee,  this  emeraude, 
And  eke  of  martirdome  the  rubie  bright, 
Ther  he  with  throte  ycorven  lay  upright, 
He  Alma  redemptoris  gan  to  singe 
So  loude,  that  all  the  place  gan  to  ringe. 

1  I.e.,  consolidated,  closely  attached  to. 
8  Asketh,  inquireth. 
31* 


366  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         13544-13576. 

The  Cristen  folk  that  thurgh  the  strete  wente, 
In  comen,  lor  to  wondre  upon  this  thing: 
And  hastifly  they  for  the  provost  sente. 
He  came  anon  withouten  tarying, 
And  herieth1  Crist,  that  is  of  hcven  king, 
And  eke  his  moder,  honour  of  mankind, 
And  after  that  the  Jewes  let  he  binde. 

This  child  with  pitons  lamentation 
Was  taken  up,  singing  his  song  alway : 
And  with  honour  and  gret  procession, 
They  carien  him  unto  the  next  abbey. 
His  moder  swouning  by  the  bere  lay ; 
Unnethes  might  the  peple  that  was  there 
This  newe  Eachel  bringen  fro  his  bere. 

"With  turment,  and  with  shameful  deth  eche  on 
This  provost  doth  thise  Jewes  for  to  sterve, 
That  of  this  morder  wiste,  and  that  anon ; 
He  n'olde  no  swiche  cursednesse  observe : 
Evil  shal  he  have,  that  evil  wol  deserve. 
Therfore  with  wilde  hors  he  did  hem  drawe, 
And  after  that  he  heng  hem  by  the  lawe. 

Upon  his  bere  ay  lith  this  innocent 
Beforn  the  auter  while  the  masse  last : 
And  after  that,  the  abbot  with  his  covent 
Han  spedde  hem  for  to  berie  him  fill  fast : 
And  whan  they  holy  water  on  him  cast, 
Yet  spake  this  child,  whan  spreint  was  the  holy  water, 
And  sang,  o  Alma  redemptoris  mater. 

This  abbot,  which  that  was  an  holy  man, 
As  monkes  ben,  or  elles  ought  to  be, 
This  yonge  child  to  conjure  he  began, 
And  said ;  O  dere  child,  I  halse2  thee 
In  vertue  of  the  holy  Trinitee, 

1  Praiseth. 
2  MSS.  Ask.  I.  2.  read  "I  conjure  tliee" — but  that  seems  to  be  a  gloss. 
To  halse  signifies  properly  to  embrace  round  Vie  neck,  from  the  Sax.  halt, 
the  neck.  See  ver.  10253.  So  in  CL.  ver.  1290:  I  stand  and  speke 
and  laugh  and  kisse  and  halie.  It  signifies  also  to  talute,  P.  P.  fol.  xxii. : 
I  halse  hym  hendlich,  as  I  hys  frende  were ;  and  fol.  xxxix.  to  salute 
with  reverence :  And  the  eleven  sterres  halted  him  all — which  seems  to 
be  the  sense  here. — Tyrwhitt. 


13577-13613.  THE  PRIORESSES  TALE.  367 

Tell  me  what  is  thy  cause  for  to  sing, 
Sith  that  thy  throte  is  cut  to  my  seming. 

My  throte  is  cut  unto  my  nekke-bon, 
Saide  this  child,  and  as  by  way  oi  kinde 
I  shuld  have  deyd,  ye  longe  time  agon: 
But  Jesu  Crist,  as  ye  in  bookes  finde, 
Wol  that  his  glory  last  and  be  in  minde, 
And  for  the  worship  of  his  moder  dere, 
Yet  may  I  sing  o  Alma  loude  and  clere. 

This  welle  of  mercie,  Cristes  moder  sweto, 
I  loved  alway,  as  after  my  conning : 
And  whan  that  I  my  lif  shulde  forlete, 
To  me  she  came,  and  bad  me  ior  to  sing 
This  antem  veraily  in  my  dying, 
As  ye  ban  herde,  and,  whan  that  I  had  songe, 
Me  thought  she  laid  a  grain  upon  my  tonge. 

"Wherfore  I  sing,  and  sing  I  mote  certain 
In  honour  of  that  blisful  maiden  free, 
Til  fro  my  tonge  of  taken  is  the  grain 
And  after  that  thus  saide  she  to  me ; 
My  litel  child,  than  wol  I  fetchen  thee, 
Whan  that  the  grain  is  fro  thy  tong  ytake: 
Be  not  agaste,  I  wol  thee  not  forsake. 

This  holy  monk,  this  abbot  him  mene  I, 
His  tonge  out  caught,  and  toke  away  the  grain; 
And  he  yave  up  the  gost  ful  softely. 
And  whan  this  abbot  had  this  wonder  sein, 
His  salte  teres  trilled  adoun  as  reyne  : 
And  groff '  he  fell  al  platte  upon  the  ground, 
And  still  he  lay,  as  he  had  ben  ybound. 

The  covent  lay  eke  upon  the  pavement 
Weping  and  herying2  Cristes  moder  dere. 
And  alter  that  they  risen,  and  forth  ben  went, 
And  toke  away  this  martir  fro  his  bere, 
And  in  a  tombe  of  marble  stones  clere 
Enclosen  they  his  litel  body  swete  : 
Ther3  he  is  now,  God  lene4  us  for  to  mete. 

»  Flat  on  the  ground.  2  Praising. 

«  Where.  *  Grant. 


368  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  13614r-13620 

O  yonge  Hew'  of  Lincoln,  slain  also 
With  cursed  J  ewes,  as  it  is  notable, 
For  it  n'is  but  a  litel  while  ago, 
Pray  eke  for  us,  we  sintul  folk  unstable 
That  of  his  mercy  God  so  merciable 
On  us  his  grete  mercie  multiplie, 
JTor  reverence  of  his  moder  Marie. 

»  Hugh.    See  the  Introduction. 


369 


PROLOGUE  TO  SIRE  THOPAS. 

13621-13647. 

"Whan  said  was  this  miracle,  every  man 

As  sober  was,  that  wonder  was  to  see, 

Til  that  our  hoste  to  japen  he  began, 

And  than  at  erst  he  loked  upon  me,1 

And  saide  thus  ;  What  man  art  thou  ?  quod  he. 

Thou  lokest,  as  thou  woldest  finde  an  hare, 

For  ever  upon  the  ground  I  see  thee  stare. 

Approche  nere,  and  loke  up  merily. 
Now  ware  you,  sires,  and  let  this  man  have  place. 
He  in  the  waste  is  shapen  as  wel  as  I : 
This  were  a  popet  in  an  arme  to  enbrace_ 
For  any  woman,  smal  and  faire  of  face. 
He  semeth  elvish  by  his  contenance, 
For  unto  no  wight  doth  he  daliance. 

Say  now  somwhat,  sin  other  folk  han  saide  ; 
Tell  us  a  tale  of  mirthe  and  that  anon. 
Hoste,  quod  I,  ne  be  not  evil  apaide, 
For  other  tale  certes  can  I  non, 
But  of  a  rime  I  lerned  yore  agon. 
Ye,  that  is  good,  quod  he,  we  shullen  here 
Som  deintee  thing,  me  thinketh  by  thy  chere. 


%\t  $tnu  jtrf  Bixt  %\npu 

Listeneth,  lordinges,  in  good  entent, 
And  I  wol  tell  you  verament 

Of  mirthe  and  of  solas, 
Al  of  a  knight  was  faire  and  gent 
In  bataille  and  in  turnament, 

His  name  was  sire  Thopas. 

1  I.  e.,  Chaucer  himself. 


870  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         13648-13668. 

Yborne  he  was  in  fer  contree, 
In  TTlandres,  al  beyonde  the  see, 

At  Popering1  in  the  place, 
His  father  was  a  man  ful  free, 
And  lord  he  was  of  that  contree, 

As  it  was  Goddes  grace. 

Sire  Thopas  was  a  doughty  swain, 
White  was  his  face  as  paindemaine* 

His  lippes  red  as  rose. 
His  rudde3  is  like  scarlet  in  grain, 
And  I  you  tell  in  good  certain 

He  had  a  semely  nose. 

His  here,  his  berde,  was  like  safroun, 
That  to  his  girdle  raught4  adoun, 

His  shoon  of  cordewane ; 
Of  Brugges  were  his  hosen  broun  j 
His  robe  was  of  ciclatoun,5 

That  coste  many  a  jane.6 

He  coude  hunt  at  the  wilde  dere, 
And  ride  on  hauking  for  the  rivere7 
With  grey  goshauk  on  honde : 

1  Poppering  or  Poppeling  was  the  name  of  a  parish  the  Marches 
of  Calais. 

2  Some  very  white  bread,  probably  taking  its  name  frjm  the  province 
of  Maine.  3  Complexion.  *  Ri     fell. 

5  The  glossaries  suppose  this  word  to  be  compounded  of  cheke  and 
latoun,  a  species  of  base  metal  like  gold :  but  it  seems  rath  ^r  to  be  merely 
a  corruption  of  the  Fr.  Ciclaton ;  which  originally  signified  a  circular 
robe  ofttate,  from  the  Gk.  Lat.  Cyclat;  and  afterwards  the  cloth  of  gold, 
of  which  such  robes  were  generally  made.  Du  Cange  in  v.  Cyclas  has 
produced  instances  enough  of  both  senses.  In  fact  several  MSS.  read 
Ciclaton  ;  and  I  have  no  excuse  for  not  having  followed  them,  but  that  I 
was  misled  by  the  authority  of  Spenser,  as  quoted  by  Mr.  Warton,  Obs.  on 
Sp.  v.  i.  p.  194.  Upon  further  consideration,  I  think  it  is  plain,  that  Spen- 
ser was  mistaken  in  the  very  foundation  of  his  notion,  "that  the  quilted 
Irish  jacket  embroidered  with  gilded  leather"  had  any  resemblance  to 
"  the  robe  of  Shecklaton."  He  supposes,  that  Chaucer  is  here  describing 
Sir  Thopas,  at  he  went  to  fight  agaimt  the  Giant,  in  his  robe  of  Shecklaton ; 
whereas,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  evident  that  Sir  Thopas  is  here  described 
tn  hit  usual  habit  in  time  of  peace.  His  warlike  apparel,  when  he  goes  to 
fight  against  the  Giant,  is  described  below,  ver.  13786  and  foil,  and  is 
totally  different. — Tyrwhitt. 

6  /.  «.,  a  coin  of  Genoa,  7  Hawking  at  waterfowl. 


13C69-13704.     THE  BIME  OP  SIRE  THOPAS.  371 

Therto  he  was  a  good  archere, 

Of  wrastling  was  ther  non  his  pere, 

Ther  ony  ram1  shuld  stonde.  I    ' 

Ful  many  a  maide  bright  £11  hour 
They  mourned  for  him  par  amour, 

Whan  hem  were  bet  to  slepe ; 
But  he  was  chaste  and  no  lechour, 
And  swete  as  is  the  bramble  flour, 

That  bereth  the  red  hepe.2 

And  so  it  fell  upon  a  day, 
Forsoth,  as  I  you  tellen  may, 

Sire  Thopas  wold  out  ride ; 
He  worth  upon  his  stede  gray, 
And  in  his  hond  a  launcegay,3 

A  long  swerd  by  his  side. 

He  priketh4  thurgh  a  faire  forest, 
Therin  is  many  a  wilde  best, 

Ye  bothe  buck  and  hare, 
And  as  he  priked  North  and  Est, 
I  telle  it  you,  him  had  almeste 

Betidde  a  sory  care. 

Ther  springen  herbes  grete  and  smale, 
The  licoris  and  the  setewale,5 

And  many  a  cloue  gilofre,6 
And  notemuge  to  put  in  ale, 
Whether  it  be  moist  or  stale, 

Or  for  to  lain  in  cofre. 

The  briddes  singen,  it  is  no  nay, 
The  sperhauk  and  the  popingay, 

That  joye  it  was  to  here, 
The  throstel  cok  made  eke  his  lay, 
The  wode  dove  upon  the  spray 

He  sang  ful  loude  and  clere. 

Sire  Thopas  fell  in  love-longing 
Al  whan  he  herd  the  throstel  sing, 
And  priked  as  he  were  wood  ;7 

'  The  usual  prize  at  wrestling.  -  The  fruit  of  the  dog  rose. 

8  A  kind  of  pike  or  spear. — See  Tyrwhitt.  *  Bideth. 

*  Valerian.  6  Either  a  clove-tree,  or  its  fruit  1  Mad. 


372  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.        13705-13737. 

His  faire  stede  in  his  priking 
So  swatte,  that  men  might  him  wring, 
His  sides  were  al  blood. 

Sire  Thopas  eke  so  wery  was 
For  priking  on  the  softe  gras, 

So  fiers  was  his  corage, 
That  doun  he  laid  him  in  that  place 
To  maken  his  stede  som  solace, 

And  yaf  him  good  forage. 

A,  Seinte  Mary,  benedicite, 
What  aileth  this  love  at  me 

To  binde  me  so  sore  1 
Me  dremed  all  this  night  parde, 
An  elf-quene  shal  my  lemman  be, 

And  slepe  under  my  gore.1 

An  elf-quene  wol  I  love  ywis, 
For  in  this  world  no  woman  is 

Worthy  to  be  my  make2 1|  in  toun,— 
All  other  women  I  forsake, 
And  to  an  elf-quene  I  me  take 

By  dale  and  eke  by  doun. 

Into  his  sadel  he  clombe  anon, 
\nd  priked  over  stile  and  ston 

An  elf-quene  for  to  espie, 
Til  he  so  long  had  ridden  and  gone, 
That  he  fond  in  a  privee  wone 

The  contree  of  Faerie. 

Wherin  he  soughte  North  and  South, 
And  oft  he  spied  with  his  mouth 

In  many  a  forest  wilde, 
For  in  that  contree  n'as  ther  non, 
That  to  him  dorst  ride  or  gon, 

Neither  wif  ne  childe. 

>  See  note  on  vs.  3237. 

3  Mate.    The  mark  ||  is  placed  by  Tyrwhit  t,  on  the  authority  of  MSS. 
There  is  probably  something  wanting  in  each  instance  where  it  occurs. 


13738-13776.      THE  RIME  OF  SIRE  THOPAS.  373 

Til  that  ther  came  a  gret  geaunt, 
His  name  was  Sire  Oliphaunt,1 

A  perilous  man  of  dede, 
He  sayde,  Child,  by  Termagaunt,' 
But  if  thou  prike  out  of  myn  haunt, 

Anon  I  slee  thy  stede  ||  with  mace- 
Here  is  the  Quene  of  Faerie, 
With  harpe,  and  pipe,  and  simphonie 

Dwelling  in  this  place. 

The  child  sayd,  Al  so  mote  I  the, 
To  morwe  wol  I  meten  thee, 

Whan  I  have  min  armoure, 
And  yet  I  hope  par  ma  fay, 
That  thou  shalt  with  this  launcegay 

Abien  it  ful  soure ;  ||  thy  ma  we— • 
Shal  I  perce,  if  I  may, 
Or  it  be  fully  prime  of  the  day, 

For  here  thou  shalt  be  slawe. 

Sire  Thopas  drow  abak  ful  fast ; 
This  geaunt  at  him  stones  cast 

Out  of  a  fel  staffe  sling: 
But  faire  escaped  child  Thopas, 
And  all  it  was  thurgh  Goddes  grace, 

And  thurgh  his  faire  bering. 

Yet  listeneth,  lordings,  to  my  tale, 
Merier  than  the  nightingale, 

For  now  I  wol  you  roune, 
How  Sire  Thopas  with  sides  smale, 
Priking  over  hill  and  dale, 

Is  comen  agein  to  toune. 

His  mery  men  commandeth  he, 
To  maken  him  bothe  game  and  gle, 

For  nedes  must  he  fighte, 
With  a  geaunt  with  hedes  three, 
For  paramour  and  jolitee 

Of  on  that  shone  ful  brighte. 

Do  come,  he  sayd,  my  minestralea 
And  gestours3  for  to  tellen  tales 
Anon  in  min  arming, 

1  Elephant,  a  proper  name  for  a  giant. 

•  A  Saracen  deity.  8  See  TyrtchttL 

32 


374  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         13777-13809. 

Of  romaunces  that  ben  reales,1 
Oi  popes  and  of  cardinales, 
And  eke  of  love-longing. 

They  fet  him  first  the  swete  win, 
And  mede  eke  in  a  maselin,3 

And  real  spicerie, 
Of  ginger-bred  that  was  ful  fin, 
And  licoris  and  eke  eomin,3 

With  suger  that  is  trie.4 

He  didde5  next  his  white  lere6 
Of  cloth  of  lake7  fin  and  clere 

A  breche  and  eke  a  sherte, 
And  next  his  shert  an  haketon,8 
And  over  that  an  habergeon, 

For  percing  of  his  herte, 

And  over  that  a  fin  hauberk, 
Was  all  y  wrought  of  Jewes  werk, 

Ful  strong  it  was  of  plate, 
And  over  that  his  cote-annoure, 
As  white  as  is  the  lily  floure, 

In  which  he  wold  debate.9 

His  sheld  was  all  of  gold  so  red, 
And  therin  was  a  bores  hed, 

A  charboucle10  beside ; 
And  ther  he  swore  on  ale  and  bred 
How  that  the  geaunt  shuld  be  ded, 

Betide  what  so  betide. 

His  jambeux"  were  of  cuirbouly,u 
His  swerdes  sheth  of  ivory, 

His  helme  of  latoun  bright, 
His  sadel  was  of  rewel  bone,13 
His  bridel  as  the  sonne  shone, 

Or  as  the  mone  light. 

1  Eoyal.  2  A  mayerin,  a  drinking-cnp. 

8  Cummin  seed.  *  Tried,  refined.  _  s  Tut  on. 

6  Complexion.  7  It  is  uncertain  what  kind  of  cloth  is  meant. 

8  A  short,  sleeveless  cassock.  9  Fight. 

M  Carbuncle.  »  Boots. 

13  Cuir  bouilli,  i.e.,  hide,  leather,  soaked  in  hot  water. 
13  See  Appendix. 


13810-13846.      THE  RIME  OP  SIRE  THOPAS.  375 

His  spere  was  of  fin  cypres, 

That  bodeth  werre,  and  nothing  pees, 

The  hed  f  ul  sharpe  yground. 
His  stede  was  all  dapple  gray, 
It  goth  an  aumble  in  the  way 

Ful  softely  and  round  ||  in  londe— 
Lo,  Lordes  min,  here  is  a  fit; 
If  ye  wol  ony  more  of  it, 

To  telle  it  wol  I  fond. 

Now  hold  your  mouth  pour  charite, 
Bothe  knight  and  lady  fre, 

And  herkeneth  to  my  spell, 
Of  bataille  and  of  chevalrie, 
Of  ladies  love  and  druerie,1 

Anon  I  wol  you  telL 

Men  speken  of  romaunces  of  pris, 
Of  Hornchild,  and  of  Ipotis, 

Of  Bevis,  and  Sire  Guy, 
Of  Sire  Libeux,  and  Pleindamour, 
But  Sire  Thopas,  he  bereth  the  flour 

Of  real  chevalrie. 

His  goode  stede  he  al  bestrode, 
And  forth  upon  his  way  he  glode,s 

As  sparcle  out  of  bronde  ;3 
Upon  his  crest  he  bare  a  tour, 
And  therin  stiked  a  lily  flour, 

God  shilde  his  corps  fro  shonde.4 

And  for  he  was  a  knight  auntrous,* 
He  n'olde  slepen  in  non  hous, 

But  liggen  in  his  hood, 
His  brighte  helm  was  his  wanger,' 
And  by  him  baited  his  destrer7 

Of  herbes8  fin  and  good. 

Himself  drank  water  of  the  well, 
As  did  the  knight  Sire  Percivell 

So  worthy  under  wede, 
Til  on  a  day 

»  Gallantry.  2  Glided.  8  Brand. 

*  Destruction.  6  Adventurous.  •  Pillow. 

1  "Warhorse,  dextrariu*.  8  Baited  of,  i.e.,  fed  on. 


876 
PROLOGUE  TO  MELIBEUa 

13847-13880. 

No  more  of  this  for  Goddes  dignitee, 
Quod  oure  hoste,  for  thou  makest  me 
So  wery  of  thy  veray  lewednesse, 
That  al  so  wisly  God  my  soule  blesse, 
Min  eres  aken  of  thy  drafty1  speche. 
Now  swiche  a  rime  the  devil  I  beteche; 
This  may  wel  be  rime  dogerel,  quod  he. 

"Why  so  ?  quod  I,  why  wolt  thou  letten*  me 
More  of  my  tele,  than  an  other  man, 
Sin  that  it  is  the  beste  rime  I  can  ? 

By  God,  quod  he,  for  plainly  at  o  word, 
Thy  drafty  riming  is  not  worth  a  tord: 
Thou  dost  nought  elles  but  dispendest  time. 
Sire,  at  o  word,  thou  shalt  no  lenger  rime. 
Let  see  wher  thou  canst  tellen  ought  in  geste, 
Or  tellen  in  prose  somwhat  at  the  leste, 
In  which  ther  be  som  mirthe  or  som  doctrine. 

Gladly,  quod  I,  by  Goddes  swete  pine 
I  wol  you  tell  a  litel  thing  in  prose, 
That  oughte  liken  you,  as  I  suppose, 
Or  elles  certes  ye  be  to  dangerous. 
It  is  a  moral  tale  vertuous, 
Al  be  it  told  som  time  in  sondry  wise 
Of  sondry  folk,  as  I  shal  you  devise. 

As  thus,  ye  wote  that  every  Evangelist^ 
That  telleth  us  the  peine  of  Jesu  Crist, 
Ne  saith  not  alle  thing  as  his  felaw  doth: 
But  natheles  hir  sentence  is  al  soth, 
And  alle  accorden  as  in  hir  sentence, 
Al  be  ther  in  hir  telling  difference: 
For  som  of  hem  say  more,  and  som  say  lesse, 
Whan  they  his  pitous  passion  expresse  ; 
I  mene  of  Mark  and  Mathew,  Luke  and  John, 
But  douteles  hir  sentence  is  all  on. 

1  Trumpery.  •  Hinder. 


13881-13894.         THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEUS.  377 

Therfore,  lordinges  all,  I  you  beseche, 
If  that  ye  thinke  I  vary  in  my  speche, 
As  thus,  though  that  T  telle  som  del  more 
Of  proverbes,  than  ye  han  herde  before 
Comprehended  in  this  litel  tretise  here, 
To  enforcen  •with  the  effect  of  my  matere, 
And  though  I  not  the  same  wordes  say 
As  ye  han  herde,  yet  to  you  alle  I  pray 
Blameth  me  not,  for,  as  in  my  sentence, 
Shul  ye  nowher  finden  no  difference 
Fro  the  sentence  of  thilke  tretise  lite, 
After  the  which  this  mery  tale  I  write. 
And  therfore  herkeneth  what  I  shal  say, 
And  let  me  tellen  all  my  tale  I  pray. 


8 aU  of  gWitas. 

A  tonge  man  called  Melibeus,  mighty  and  riche,  begate 
upon  his  wif,  that  called  was  Prudence,  a  doughter  which 
that  called  was  Sophie.1 

Upon  a  day  befell,  that  he  for  his  disport  is  went  into 
the  feldes  him  to  playe.  His  wif  and  eke  his  doughter 
hath  he  laft  within  his  hous,  of  which  the  dores  weren  fast 

Ehette.  Foure  of  his  olde  foos  han  it  espied,  and  setten 
iders  to  the  walles  of  his  hous,  and  by  the  windowes  ben 
entred,  and  beten  his  wif,  and  wounded  his  doughter  with 
five  mortal  woundes,  in  five  sondry  places ;  this  is  to  say, 
in  hire  feet,  in  hire  hondes,  in  hire  eres,  in  hire  nose,  and 
in  hire  mouth ;  and  leften  hire  for  dede,  and  wenten  away. 

Whan  Melibeus  retorned  was  into  his  hous,  and  sey  al 
this  meschief,  he,  like  a  mad  man,  rending  his  clothes  gan 
to  wepe  and  crie. 

Prudence  his  wif,  as  fer  forth  as  she  dorste,  besought  him 
of  his  weping  for  to  stint :  but  not  forthy2  he  gan  to  crie  and 
wepen  ever  lenger  the  more. 

This  noble  wif  Prudence  remembred  hire  upon  the  sen- 
tence of  Ovide,  in  his  book  that  cleped  is  the  Eemedie  of 

1  I.  e.,  wisdom.  The  reader  will  doubtless  observe  (as  Thomas  and 
Tyrwhitt  have  noticed)  that  the  earlier  pages  of  this  tale  appear  to  be 
written  in  a  species  of  blank  verse.  3  Therefore. 

32* 


378  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

love,  wheras  he  saith;  he  is  a  fool  that  distourbeth  the 
moder  to  wepe,  in  the  deth  of  hire  childe,  til  she  have  wept 
hire  fille,  as  for  a  certain  time :  and  than  shal  a  man  don 
his  diligence  with  amiable  wordes  hire  to  reconiorte  and 
preye  hire  of  hire  weping  for  to  stinte.  For  which  reson 
this  noble  wif  Prudence  suftred  hire  housbond  for  to  wepe 
and  crie,  as  for  a  certain  space ;  and  whan  she  saw  hire 
time,  she  sayde  to  him  in  this  wise.  Alas !  my  lord,  quod 
she,  why  make  ye  yourseli  for  to  be  like  a  fool  ?  Forsothe 
it  apperteineth  not  to  a  wise  man,  to  maken  swiche  a  sotwe. 
Youre  doughter,  with  the  grace  of  God,  shal  warish1  and 
escape.  And  al  were  it  so  that  she  right  now  were  dede, 
ye  ne  ought  not  as  for  hire  deth  youreself  to  destroye. 
Senek  saith ;  the  wise  man  shal  not  take  to  gret  discom- 
fort for  the  deth  of  his  children,  but  certes  he  shulde  suf- 
fren  it  in  patience,  as  wel  as  he  abideth  the  deth  01  his  owen 
propre  persone. 

This  Melibeus  answered  anon  and  said :  what  man  (quod 
he)  shulde  of  his  weping  stinte,  that  hath  so  gret  a  cause 
for  to  wepe  ?  Jesu  Crist,  our  Lord,  himsell  wepte  tor  the 
deth  of  Lazarus  his  frend.  Prudence  answered;  certes 
wel  I  wote,  attempre2  weping  is  nothing  defended,3  to  him 
that  sorweful  is,  among  folk  in  sorwe,  but  it  is  rather 
graunted  him  to  wepe.  The  Apostle  Poule  unto  the  Ro- 
manies writeth ;  man  shal  rejoyce  with  hem  that  maken 
joye,  and  wepen  with  swiche  folk  as  wepen.  But  though 
attempre  weping  be  ygranted,  outrageous  weping  certes  is 
defended.  Mesure  of  weping  shulde  be  considered,  after 
the  lore  that  techeth  us  Senek.  Whan  that  thy  frend  is 
dede  (quod  he)  let  not  thin  eyen  to  moiste  ben  of  teres,  ne 
to  muche  drie :  although  the  teres  comen  to  thin  eyen,  let 
hem  not  falle.  And  whan  thou  hast  forgon  thy  frend,  do 
diligence  to  get  agein  another  frend:  and  this  is  more 
wisdom  than  for  to  wepe  for  thy  frend,  which  that  thou 
hast  lorne,  for  therin  is  no  bote.4  And  therfore  if  ye 
governe  you  by  sapience,  put  away  sorwe  out  of  youre 
herte.  Kemembreth  you  that  Jesus  Sirak  sayth ;  a  man 
that  is  joyous  and  glad  in  herte,  it  him  conserveth  florish- 
ing  in  his  age:  but  sothly  a  sorweful  herte  maketh  his 
bones  drie.  He  saith  eke  thus,  that  sorwe  in  herte  sleeth 
ful  many  a  man.  Salomon  sayth,  that  right  as  mouthes* 
in  the  shepes  fleese  anoien6  to  the  clothes,  and  the  smale 

1  Be  healed.  3  Moderate.  3  Forbidden. 

4  Profit.  6  Moths.  6  Are  injurious. 


THE  TALE   OP  MELIBEUS.  379 

wormes  to  the  tree,  right  so  anoieth  sorwe  to  tho  herte  of 
man.  Wherfore  us  ought  as  wel  in  the  deth  of  oure 
children,  as  in  the  losse  of  oure  goodes  temporel,  have 
patience. 

Eemembre  you  upon  the  patient  Job,  whan  he  hadde 
lost  his  children  and  his  temporel  substaunce,  and  in  his 
body  endured  and  received  ful  many  a  grevous  tribulation, 
yet  sayde  he  thus :  Oure  Lord  hath  yeve  it  to  me,  oure 
Lord  hath  beraft  it  me ;  right  as  oure  Lord  hath  wold, 
right  so  is  it  don;  yblessed  be  the  name  of  oure  Lord. 
To  thise  foresaide  thinges  answered  Melibeus  unto  his 
wif  Prudence :  all  thy  wordes  (quod  he)  ben  trewe,  and 
therto  profitable,  but  trewely  min  herte  is  troubled  with 
this  sorwe  so  grevously,  that  I  n'ot  what  to  don.  Let 
calle  (quod  Prudence)  thyn  trewe  frendes  alle,  and  thy 
linage,  which  thai  ben  wise,  and  telleth  to  hem  your  cas, 
and  herkeneth  what  they  saye  in  conseilling,  and  governe 
you  after  hir  sentence.  Salomon  saith ;  werke  all  thinges 
by  conseil,  and  thou  shalt  never  repente. 

Than,  by  conseil  of  his  wif  Prudence,  this  Melibeus  let 
calleu  a  gret  congregation  of  folk,  as  surgiens,  phisiciens, 
olde  folk  and  youge,  and  som  of  his  olde  enemies  recon- 
ciled (as  by  hir  semblant)  to  his  love  and  to  his  grace : 
and  therwithal  ther  comen  some  of  his  neigheboures,  that 
diden  him  reverence  more  for  drede  than  for  love,  as  it 
happeth  oft.  Ther  comen  also  ful  many  subtil  flaterers, 
and  wise  Advocats  lerned  in  the  lawe. 

And  whan  thise  folk  togeder  assembled  weren,  this 
Melibeus  in  sorweful  wise  shewed  hem  his  cas,  and  by  the 
manere  of  his  speche,  it  semed  that  in  herte  he  bare  a 
cruel  ire,  redy  to  don  •vengeaunce  upon  his  foos,  and 
sodeinly  desired  that  the  werre  shulde  beginne,  but  natheles 
yet  axed  he  his  conseil  upon  this  matere.  A  surgien,  by 
licence  and  assent  of  swiche  as  weren  wise,  up  rose,  and 
unto  Melibeus  sayde,  as  ye  moun  here. 

Sire,  (quod  he)  as  to  us  surgiens  apperteineth,  that  we 
do  to  every  wight  the  beste  that  we  can,  wher  as  we  ben 
withholden,1  and  to  our  patient  that  we  do  no  damage : 
wherfore  it  happeth  many  time  and  ofte,  that  whan 
twey  men  han  everich  wounded  other,  o  same  surgien 
heleth  hem  both,  wherfore  unto  our  art  it  is  not  pertiuent 
to  norice  werre,  ne  parties  to  supporte.    But  certes,  as  to 

1  Retained. 


380  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

the  warishing1  of  youre  doughter,  al  be  it  so  that  perilously 
she  be  wounded,  we  shuln  do  so  ententif  besinesse  fro  day 
to  night,  that  with  the  grace  of  God,  she  shal  be  hole  and 
sound,  as  sone  as  is  possible.  Almost  right  in  the  same 
wise  the  phisiciens  answerden,  save  that  they  said  en  a 
fewe  wordes  more :  that  right  as  maladies  ben  cured  by  hir 
contraries,  right  so  shal  man  warishe  werre.  His  neighe- 
boures  ful  of  envie,  his  feined  frendes  that  semed  recon- 
ciled, and  hia  flaterers,  maden  semblant  of  weping,  and 
empeired  and  agregged  muchel  of  this  matere,  in  preysing 
gretly  Melibee  of  might,  of  power,  of  richesse,  and  of 
frendes,  despising  the  power  of  his  adversaries :  and 
saiden  outrely,2  that  he  anon  shulde  wreken  him  on  his 
foos,  and  beginnen  werre. 

Up  rose  than  an  Advocat  that  was  wise,  by  leve  and  by 
conseil  of  other  that  were  wise,  and  sayde :  Lordinges,  the 
nede  for  the  which  we  ben  assembled  in  this  place,  is  a  ful 
hevie  thing,  and  an  heigh  matere,  because  of  the  wrong 
and  of  the  wikkednesse  that  hath  be  don,  and  eke  by 
reson  of  the  grete  damages,  that  in  time  coming  ben  pos- 
sible to  fallen  for  the  same  cause,  and  eke  by  reson  of  the 
gret  richesse  and  power  of  the  parties  bothe,  for  the  which 
resons,  it  were  a  ful  gret  peril  to  erren  in  this  matere. 
"Wherfore,  Melibeus,  this  is  oure  sentence ;  we  conseille 
you,  aboven  alle  thing,  that  right  anon  thou  do  thy  dili- 
gence in  keping  of  thy  propre  persone,  in  swiche  a  wise 
that  thou  ne  want  non  espie  ne  watche,  thy  body  for  to 
save.  And  after  that,  we  conseille  that  in  thin  hous  thou 
sette  suffisant  garnison,  so  that  they  moun  as  wel  thy 
body  as  thy  hous  defende.  But  certes  for  to  meeven 
werre,  ne  sodenly  for  to  do  vengeaunce,  we  moun  not 
deme  in  so  litel  time  that  it  were  profitable.  Wherfore 
we  axen  leiser  and  space  to  have  deliberation  in  this  cas 
to  deme  ;3  for  the  comune  proverbe  saith  thus ;  He  that 
sone  demeth,  sone  shal  repente.  And  eke  men  sain,  that 
thilke  juge  is  wise,  that  sone  understondeth  a  matere,  and 
jugeth  by  leiser.  For  al  be  it  so,  that  al  tarying  be  anoiful, 
algates  it  is  not  to  repreve  in  yeving  of  jugement,  ne  in 
vengeance  taking,  whan  it  is  suffisant  and  resonable.  And 
that  shewed  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist  by  ensample,  for  whan 
that  the  woman  that  was  taken  in  advoutrie,  was  brought 
in  his  presence  to  knowen  what  shuld  be  don  with  hire 

1  Restoration,  cure.  3  Openly.  *  Determine. 


THE  TALE  OP  MELIBEUS.  381 

pcrsone,  al  be  it  that  he  wist  wel  himself  what  that  he 
wolde  answere,  yet  ne  wolde  he  not  answere  sodeinly,  but 
he  wolde  have  deliberation,  and  in  the  ground  he  wrote 
twies  ;  and  by  thise  causes  we  axen  deliberation :  and  we 
shulu  than  by  the  grace  of  God  conseille  the  thing  that 
shal  be  profitable. 

Up  sterte  than  the  yonge  folk  at  ones,  and  the  most 
partie  of  that  compagnie  han  scorned  this  olde  wise  man, 
and  begonnen  to  make  noise  and  saiden  ;  Right  so  as  while 
that  iren  is  hot  men  shulde  smite,  right  so  men  shuln  do 
wreken  hir  wronges,  while  that  they  ben  freshe  and  newe  : 
and  with  loude  voys  they  criden  werre,  werre.  Up  rose  tho 
on  of  thise  olde  wise,  and  with  his  hand  made  countenaunce 
that  men  shuld  holde  hem  stille,  and  yeve  him  audience. 
Lordinges,  (quod  he)  ther  is  ful  many  a  man  that  crieth 
werre,  werre,  that  wote  ful  litel  what  werre  aniounteth. 
Werre  at  his  beginning  hath  so  gret  an  entring  and  so 
large,  that  every  wight  may  enter  whan  him  liketh,  and 
lightly  find  werre  :  but  certes  what  end  that  shal  befalle, 
it  is  not  light  to  know.  For  sothly  whan  that  werre  is 
ones  begonne,  ther  is  ful  many  a  child  unborne  of  his 
moder,  that  shal  sterve1  yong,  by  cause  of  thilke  werre, 
other  elles  live  in  sorwe,  and  dien  in  wretchednesse  :  and 
therfore  or  that  any  werre  be  begonne,  men  must  have 
gret  conseil  and  gret  deliberation.  And  whan  this  olde 
man  wende  to  enforcen  his  tale  by  resons,  wel  nie  alle  at 
ones  begonne  they  to  rise,  for  to  breken  his  tale,  and 
bidden  him  ful  oft  his  wordes  for  to  abregge.  For  sothly 
he  that  precheth  to  hem  that  listen  not  heren  his  wordes, 
his  sermon  hem  anoieth.  For  Jesus  Sirak  sayth,  that 
musike  in  weping  is  a  noious  thing.  This  is  to  sayn,  as 
muche  availleth  to  speke  beforn  folk  to  which  his  speche 
anoieth,  as  to  singe  beforne  him  that  wepeth.  And  whan 
this  wise  man  saw  that  him  wanted  audience,  al  shamefasi 
he  sette  him  doun  agein.  For  Salomon  saith  :  ther  as  thou 
ne  mayst  have  non  audience,  enforce  thee  not  to  speke. 
I  see  wel,  (quod  this  wise  man)  that  the  comune  proverbo 
is  soth,  that  good  conseil  wanteth,2  whan  it  is  most  nede. 

Yet  had  this  Melibeus  in  his  conseil  many  folk,  that 
prively  in  his  ere  conseilled  him  certain  thing,  and  eon- 
seilled  him  the  contrary  in  general  audience.  Whan 
Melibeus  had  herd  that  the  gretest  partie  of  his  conseil 

1  Die.  *  Is  wanting. 


382  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

were  accorded  that  he  shulde  make  werre,  anon  he  con 
sented  to  hire  conseilling,  and  fully  afferraed  hir  sentence. 
Than  dame  Prudence,  whan  that  she  saw  how  that  hire 
hosbonde  shope  him  for  to  awreke  him  on  his  foos,  and  to 
beginne  werre,  she  in  ful  humble  wise,  whan  she  saw  hire 
time,  sayde  him  these  wordes :  my  lord,  (quod  she)  I  you 
beseche  as  hertly  as  I  dare  and  can,  ne  haste  you  not  to 
taste,  and  for  atte  guerdons  as  yeve1  me  audience.  For 
Piers  Alphonse2  sayth ;  who  so  that  doth  to  thee  outher 
good  or  harme,  haste  thee  not  to  quite  it,  for  in  this  wise 
thy  frend  wol  abide,  and  thin  enemie  shal  the  lenger  live 
in  drede.  The  proverbe  sayth ;  he  hasteth  wel  that  wisely 
can  abide :  and  in  wikked  hast  is  no  profite. 

This  Melibee  answered  unto  his  wif  Prudence :  I  purpose 
not  (quod  he)  to  werken  by  thy  conseil,  for  many  causes 
and  resons:  for  certes  every  wight  wold  hold  me  than  a 
fool ;  this  is  to  sayn,  if  I  for  thy  conseilling  wolde  change 
thinges,  that  ben  ordeined  and  affirmed  by  so  many  wise 
men.  Secondly,  I  say,  that  all  women  ben  wicke,  and  non 
good  of  hem  all.  For  oi  a  thousand  men,  saith  Salomon, 
I  found  o  good  man :  but  certes  of  alle  women  good 
woman  found  I  never.  And  also  certes,  h  I  governed  me 
by  thy  conseil,  it  shulde  seme  that  I  had  yeve  thee  over 
me  the  maistrie :  and  God  forbede  that  it  so  were.  For 
Jesus  Sirak  sayth,  that  if  the  wif  have  the  maistrie,  she  is 
contrarious  to  hire  husbond.  And  Salomon  sayth  ;  never 
in  thy  lif  to  thy  wii,  ne  to  thy  childe,  ne  to  thy  irend,  ne 
yeve  no  power  over  thy  self:  for  better  it  were  that  thy 
children  axe  of  thee  thinges  that  hem  nedeth,  than  thou 
see  thy  self  in  the  handes  of  thy  children.  And  also  if  I 
wol  werche  by  thy  conseilling,  certes  it  must  be  somtime 
secree,  til  it  were  time  that  it  be  knowen :  and  this  ne 
may  not  be,  if  I  shulde  be  conseilled  by  thee.  [For  it  is 
written;  the  janglerie  of  women  ne  can  no  thing  hide, 
save  that  which  they  wote  not.  After  the  philosophre 
sayth ;  in  wikked  conseil  women  venquishen  men :  and  for 
thise  resons  I  ne  owe  not  to  be  conseilled  by  thee.] 

Whan  dame  Prudence,  ful  debonairly  and  with  gret 
pacience,  had  herd  all  that  hire  husbonde  liked  for  to  say, 
than  axed  she  of  him  licence  for  to  speke,  and  sayde  in 
this  wise.  My  lord,  (quod  she)  as  to  your  first  reson,  it 
may  lightly  ben  answerd :  for  I  say  that  it  is  no  folie  to 

1  /.  e.,  do  thou  give  me. 
1  See  a  long  and  learned  account  of  this  author  in  Tyrwhi  tt's  notes. 


THE  TALE  OP  MELIBEUS.  383 

chaunge  conseil  whan  the  thins?  is  chaunged,  or  elles  whan 
the  thing  semeth  otherwise  than  it  seined  afore.  And 
moreover  I  say,  though  that  ye  have  sworne  and  hehight 
to  performe  your  emprise,  and  nevertheless  ye  weive1  to 
performe  thilke  same  emprise  by  just  cause,  men  shuld  not 
say  thertore  ye  were  a  Iyer,  ne  forsworn:  for  the  book 
sayth,  that  the  wise  man  maketh  no  lesing,  whan  he  turneth 
his  corage  for  the  better.  And  al  be  it  that  your  emprise 
be  established  and  ordeined  by  gret  multitude  of  folk,  yet 
thar  you  not  accomplish  thilke  ordinance  but  you  liketh : 
for  the  trouthe  of  thinges,  and  the  profit,  ben  rather  foun- 
den  in  iewe  folk  that  ben  wise  and  ful  of  reson,  than  by 
gret  multitude  of  folk,  ther  every  man  cryeth  and  clatter- 
eth  what  him  liketh :  sothly  swiche  multitude  is  not  honest. 
As  to  the  second  reson,  wheras  ye  say,  that  alle  women  ben 
wicke:  save  your  grace,  certes  ye  despise  alle  women  in 
this  wise,  and  he  that  all  despiseth,  as  saith  the  book, 
all  displeseth.  And  Senek  saith,  that  who  so  wol  have 
sapience,  shal  no  man  dispreise,  but  he  shal  gladly  teche 
the  science  that  he  can,  without  presumption  or  pride :  and 
swiche  thinges  as  he  nought  can,  he  shal  not  ben  ashamed 
to  lere  hem,  and  to  enquere  of  lesse  folk  than  himself.  And, 
Sire,  that  ther  hath  ben  ful  many  a  good  woman,  may 
lightly  be  preved :  tor  certes,  Sire,  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist 
n'olde  never  han  descended  to  be  borne  of  a  woman,  if  all 
women  had  be  wicked.  And  after  that,  for  the  gret  bountee 
that  is  in  women,  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist,  whan  he  was  risen 
from  deth  to  lif,  appered  rather  to  a  woman  than  to  his 
Apostles.  And  though  that  Salomon  sayde,  he  found 
never  no  good  woman,  it  folweth  not  therfore,  that 
all  women  be  wicked :  for  though  that  he  ne  foimd  no 
good  woman,  certes  many  another  man  hath  founde  many 
a  woman  ful  good  and  trewe.  Or  elles  peraventure  the 
entent  of  Salomon  was  this,  that  in  soveraine  bountee  he 
found  no  woman ;  this  is  to  say,  that  ther  is  no  wight  that 
hath  soveraine  bountee,  save  God  alone,  as  he  himself 
recordeth  in  his  Evangelies.  For  ther  is  no  creature  so 
good,  that  him  ne  wanteth  somwhat  of  the  perfection  of 
God  that  is  his  maker.  Youre  thridde  reson  is  this ;  ye 
say  that  if  that  ye  governe  you  by  my  conseil,  it  shulde  seme 
that  ye  had  yeve  me  the  maistrie  and  the  lordship  of  your 
person.  Sire,  save  your  grace,  it  is  not  so ;  for  if  so  were 
that  no  man  shulde  be  conseUled  but  only  of  hem  that  han 

1  Waive,  omit 


384  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

lordship  and  maistrie  of  his  person,  men  n'olde  not  hs  con- 
seilled  so  often :  for  sothly  thilke  man  that  asketh  conseil 
of  a  purpos,  yet  hath  he  free  chois  whether  he  wol  werke 
after  that  conseil  or  non.  And  as  to  your  fourth  reson, 
ther  as  ye  sain  that  the  janglerie  of  women  can  hide  thinges 
that  they  wot  not;  as  who  so  aayth,  that  a  woman  can  not 
hide  that  she  wote ;  Sire,  thise  wordes  ben  understonde  of 
women  that  ben  jangleresses  and  wicked ;  of  which  women 
men  sain  that  three  thinges  driven  a  man  out  of  his  hous, 
that  is  to  say,  smoke,  dropping  of  raine,  and  wicked  wives. 
And  of  swiche  women  Salomon  sayth,  That  a  man  were 
better  dwell  in  desert,  than  with  a  woman  that  is  riotous. 
And,  sire,  by  your  leve,  that  am  not  I ;  for  ye  have  ful 
often  assaied  my  gret  silence  and  my  gret  patience,  and  eke 
how  wel  that  I  can  hide  and  hele  thinges,  that  men  oughten 
secretly  to  hiden.  And  sothly  as  to  your  fifthe  reson, 
wheras  ye  say,  that  in  wicked  conseil  women  venqnishen 
men  ;  God  wote  that  thilke  reson  stant  here  in  no 
stede:  for  understondeth  now,  ye  axen  conseil  for  to  do 
wickednesse ;  and  if  ye  wol  werken  wickednesse,  and  your 
wif  restraineth  thilke  wicked  purpos,  and  overcometh  you 
by  reson  and  by  good  conseil,  certes  your  wif  ought  rather 
to  be  preised  than  to  be  blamed.  Thus  shulde  ye  under- 
stonde the  philosophre  that  sayth,  In  wicked  conseil  women 
venquishen  hir  husbondes.  And  ther  as  ye  blamen  all 
women  and  hir  resons,  I  shal  shewe  you  by  many  ensam- 
ples,  that  many  women  have  ben  ful  good,  and  yet 
ben,  and  hir  conseil  holesome  and  profitable.  Eke  som 
men  han  sayd,  that  the  conseil  of  women  is  either  to  dere, 
or  elles  to  litel  of  pris.  But  al  be  it  so  that  ful  many  a 
woman  be  bad,  and  hire  conseil  vile  and  nought  worth,  yet 
han  men  founden  ful  many  a  good  woman,  and  discrete 
and  wise  in  conseilling.  Lo,  Jacob,  thurgh  the  good  conseil 
of  his  mother  Rebecke,  wan  the  benison  of  his  father,  and 
the  lordship  over  all  his  brethren.  Judith,  by  hire  good 
conseil,  delivered  the  citee  of  Bethulie,  in  which  she  dwelt, 
out  of  the  honde  of  Holofern,  that-had  it  beseged,  and  wolde 
it  al  destroye.  Abigail  delivered  Nabal  hire  housbond  fro 
David  the  king,  that  wolde  han  slain  him,  and  appesed  the 
ire  of  the  king  by  hire  wit,  and  by  hire  good  conseilling. 
Hester  by  hire  conseil  enhaunced  gretly  the  peple  of 
'  God,  in  the  regne  of  Assuerus  the  king.  And  the  same 
bountee  in  good  conseilling  of  many  a  good  woman 
moun  men  rede  and  tell.    And  further  more,  whan  that 


THE  TALE  OP  MELIBEU8.  385 

oure  Lord  had  created  Adam  oure  forme  father,  he  sayd 
in  this  wise ;  it  is  not  good  to  be  a  man  allone  :  make 
we  to  him  an  helpe  semblable  to  himself.  Here  moun 
ye  see  that  if  women  weren  not  good,  and  hir  conseil 
good  and  profitable,  oure  Lord  God  of  heven  wolde  neither 
nan  wrought  hem,  ne  called  hem  helpe  of  man,  but  rather 
confusion  of  man.  And  ther  sayd  a  clerk  ones  in  two  vers; 
what  is  better  than  gold  1  Jaspre.  What  is  better  than 
jaspre  ?  Wisdom.  And  what  is  better  than  wisdom  1 
Woman.  And  what  is  better  than  a  good  woman  1  Nothing. 
And,  Sire,  by  many  other  resons  moun  ye  seen,  that  many 
women  ben  good,  and  hir  conseil  good  and  profitable.  And 
therfore,  Sire,  if  ye  wol  troste  to  my  conseil,  I  shal  restore 
you  your  doughter  hole  and  sound:  and  I  wol  don  to  you 
so  muche,  that  ye  shuln  have  honour  in  this  cas. 

Whan  Melibee  had  herd  the  wordes  of  his  wif  Prudence, 
he  sayd  thus:  I  se  wel  that  the  word  of  Salomon  is  soth; 
for  he  saith,  that  wordes,  that  ben  spoken  discretly  by  or- 
dinaunce,  ben  honiecombes,  for  they  yeven  swetenesse  to 
the  soule,  and  holsomnesse  to  the  body.  And,  wif,  because 
of  thy  swete  wordes,  and  eke  for  I  have  preved  and  assaied 
thy  grete  sapience  and  thygrete  trouthe,  I  wol  governe  me 
by  thy  conseil  in  alle  thing. 

Now,  Sire,  (quod  dame  Prudence)  and  sein  that  ye  vouch- 
safe to  be  governed  by  my  conseil,  I  wol  enforme  you  how 
that  ye  shuln  governe  yourself,  in  chesing  of  youre  conseil- 
lours.  Ye  shuln  first  in  alle  your  werkes  mekely  besechen 
to  the  heigh  God,  that  he  wol  be  your  conseillour:  and 
shapeth  you  to  swiche  entente  that  he  yeve  you  conseil  and 
comforte,  as  taught  Tobie  his  sone  ;  at  alle  times  thou 
shalt  blesse  God,  and  preie  him  to  dresse  thy  wayes ;  and 
loke  that  alle  thy  conseils  ben  in  him  for  evermore.  Seint 
James  eke  sayth ;  if  any  of  you  have  nede  of  sapience,  axe 
it  of  God.  And  afterwarde,  than  shullen  ye  take  conseil 
in  yourself,  and  examine  wel  your  owen  thoughtes,  of  swiche 
thinges  as  you  thinketh  that  ben  best  for  your  profit.  And 
than  shuln  ye  drive  fro  your  herte  three  thinges  that  ben 
contrarious  to  good  conseil ;  that  is  to  sayn,  ire,  coveitise, 
and  hastinesse. 

First,  he  that  axeth  conseil  of  himself,  certes  he  must  be 
withouten  ire,  for  many  causes.  The  first  is  this :  he  that 
hath  gret  ire  and  wrath  in  himself,  he  weneth  alway  that 
he  may  do  thing  that  he  may  not  do.  And  secondly,  he 
that  is  irous  and  wroth,  he  may  not  wel  deme :  and  he  that 
33 


386  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

may  not  wel  deme,  may  not  wel  conseille.  The  thridde  is 
this  ;  he  that  is  irous  and  wroth,  as  sayth  Senek,  ne  may 
not  speke  but  blamef  ul  thinges,  and  with  his  vicious  wordes 
he  stirreth  other  folk  to  anger  and  to  ire.  And  eke,  Sire, 
ye  must  drive  coveitise  out  of  your  herte.  For  the  Apostle 
sayth,  that  coveitise  is  the  rote  of  alle  harmes.  And 
trosteth  wel,  that  a  coveitous  man  ne  can  not  deme  ne 
thinke,  but  only  to  fulfille  the  ende  of  his  coveitise  ;  and 
certes  that  ne  may  never  ben  accomplised ;  for  ever  the 
more  haboundance  that  he  hath  of  richesse,  the  more  he 
desireth.  And,  Sire,  ye  must  also  drive  out  of  youre  herte 
hastinesse :  for  certes  ye  ne  moun  not  deme  for  the  beste  a 
soden  thought  that  falleth  in  youre  herte,  but  ye  must 
avise  you  on  it  ful  ofte  :  for  as  ye  have  herde  herebeforn, 
the  commune  proverbe  is  this ;  he  that  sone  demeth,  sone 
repenteth. 

Sire,  ye  ne  be  not  alway  in  like  disposition,  for  certes 
som  thing  that  somtime  semeth  to  you  that  it  is  good 
for  to  do,  another  time  it  semeth  to  you  the  contrarie. 

And  whan  ye  han  taken  conseil  in  yourself,  and  han 
demed  by  good  deliberation  swiche  thing  as  you  semeth 
beste,  than  rede  I  you  that  ye  kepe  it  secree.  Bewreye  not 
your  conseil  to  no  persone,  but  if  so  be  that  ye  wenen 
sikerly,  that  thurgh  youre  bewreying  youre  condition  shal 
ben  to  you  more  profitable.  For  Jesus  Sirak  saith :  neither 
to  thy  foo  ne  to  thy  frend  discover  not  thy  secree,  ne  thy 
folie :  for  they  woln  yeve  you  audience  and  loking,  anil 
supportation  in  youre  presence,  and  scorne  you  in  youre 
absence.  Another  clerk  sayth,  that  scarsly  shalt  thou 
finden  any  persone  that  may  kepe  thy  conseil  secrely.  The 
book  sayth ;  while  that  thou  kepest  thy  conseil  in  thin 
herte,  thou  kepest  it  in  thy  prison :  and  whan  thou  be- 
wreyest  thy  conseil  to  any  wight,  he  holdeth  thee  in  his 
snare.  And  therfore  you  is  better  to  hide  your  conseil  in 
your  herte,  than  to  preye  him  to  whom  ye  han  bewreyed 
youre  conseil,  that  he  wol  kepe  it  close  and  stille.  For 
Seneca  sayth  :  if  so  be  that  thou  ne  mayst  not  thin  owen 
conseil  hide,  how  darest  thou  preyen  any  other  wight  thy 
conseil  secrely  to  kepe  ?  but  natheles,  if  thou  wene  sikerly1 
that  thy  bewreying  of  thy  conseil  to  a  persone  wol  make 
thy  condition  to  stonden  in  the  better  plight,  than  shalt 
thou  telle  him  thy  conseil  in  this  wise,    First,  thou  shalt 

»  Truly. 


THE  TALE  OP  MELIBEU8.  387 

make  no  semblant  whether  thee  were  lever  pees  or  werre, 
or  this  or  that ;  lie  shewe  him  not  thy  will  ne  thin 
entente  :  for  troste  wel  that  communly  these  conseillours 
ben  flaterers,  namely  the  conseillours  ox  grete  lordes,  lor 
they  entbrcen  hem  alway  rather  to  speken  plesaiit  wordes 
enclining  to  the  lordes  lust,  than  wordes  that  ben  trewe  or 
profitable :  and  therfore  men  sayn,  that  the  riche  man  hath 
selde  good  conseil,  but  if  he  have  it  ot  himself.  And  after 
that  thou  shalt  consider  thy  frendes  and  thin  enemies. 
And  as  touching  thy  frendes,  thou  shalt  consider  which  of 
hem  ben  most  feithful  and  most  wise,  and  eldest  and  most 
appreved  in  conseilling:  and  of  hem  shalt  thou  axe  thy 
conseil,  as  the  cas  requireth. 

I  say,  that  first  ye  shuln  clepe  to  youre  conseil  youre 
frendes  that  ben  trewe.  For  Salomon  saith  :  that  right  as 
the  herte  of  a  man  deliteth  in  savour  that  is  swote,  right 
so  the  conseil  of  trewe  frendes  yeveth  swetenesse  to  the 
soule.  He  sayth  also,  ther  may  nothing  be  likened  to  the 
trewe  trend :  tor  certes  gold  ne  silver  ben  not  so  muche 
worth  as  the  good  will  of  a  trewe  fiend.  And  eke  he  sayth, 
that  a  trewe  trend  is  a  strong  deience ;  who  so  that  it 
findeth,  certes  he  findeth  a  gret  tresor.  Than  shuln  ye  eke 
consider  if  that  your  trewe  frendes  ben  discrete  and  wise  : 
for  the  book  saith,  axe  alway  thy  conseil  of  hem  that  ben 
wise.  And  by  this  same  reson  shuln  ye  clepen  to  youre 
conseil  youre  frendes  that  ben  of  age,  swiche  as  han  seyn 
and  ben  expert  in  many  thinges,  and  ben  appreved  in  con- 
seillinges.  For  the  book  sayth,  in  olde  men  is  al  the 
sapience,  and  in  longe  time  the  prudence.  And  Tullius 
sayth,  that  grete  thinges  ne  ben  not  ay  accomplised  by 
strengthe,  ne  by  delivernesse'  of  body,  but  by  good  conseil, 
by  auctoritee  of  persones,  and  by  science  :  the  which  three 
thinges  ne  ben  not  feble  by  age,  but  certes  they  euforcen 
and  encresen  day  by  day.  And  than  shuln  ye  kepe  this 
for  a  general  reule.  First  ye  shuln  clepe  to  youre  conseil  a 
fewe  of  youre  Irendes  that  ben  especial.  For  Salomon 
saith  ;  many  frendes  have  thou,  but  among  a  thousand 
chese  thee  on  to  be  thy  conseillour.  For  al  be  it  so,  that 
thou  first  ne  telle  thy  conseil  but  to  a  fewe,  thou  mayest 
afterwarde  tell  it  to  mo  lolk,  if  it  be  nede.  But  loke  alway 
that  thy  conseillours  have  thilke  three  conditions  that  I 
have  sayd  before  ;  that  is  to  say,  that  they  be  trewe  wise, 

I  Agility. 


388  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

and  of  olde  experience.  And  werer  not  alway  in  every 
nede  by  on  conseillour  allone  :  for  somtime  behoveth  it  to 
be  conseilled  by  many.  For  Salomon  sayth  ;  salvation  of 
thinges  is  wher  as  tber  ben  many  conseillours. 

Now  sith  that  I  have  told  you  of  which  iolk  ye  shulde  be 
conseilled :  now  wol  I  teche  you  which  conseil  ye  ought  to 
eschue.  First  ye  shuln  eschue  the  conseilling  of  fooles ; 
for  Salomon  sayth,  Take  no  conseil  of  a  fool :  for  he  ne  can 
not  conseille  but  after  his  owen  lust  and  his  affection.  The 
book  sayth,  the  propretee  of  a  fool  is  this :  He  troweth 
lightly  harme  of  every  man,  and  lightly  troweth  all  bountee 
in  himself.  Thou  shalt  eke  eschue  the  conseilling  of  all 
flaterers,  swiche  as  enforcen  hem  rather  to  preisen  youre 
persone  by  flaterie,  than  for  to  tell  you  the  sothfastnesse  of 
thinges. 

Wherfore  Tullius  sayth,  Among  alle  the  pestilences  that 
ben  in  frendship,  the  gretest  is  flaterie.  And  therfore  it  is 
more  nede  that  thou  eschue  and  drede  flaterers,  than  any 
other  peple.  The  book  saith,  Thou  shalt  rather  drede  and 
flee  fro  the  swete  wordes  of  flatering  preisers,  than  fro  the 
egre  wordes  of  thy  frend  that  saith  thee  sothes.  Salomon 
saith,  that  the  wordes  of  a  flaterer  is  a  snare  to  cacchen 
innocentes.  He  sayth  also,  He  that  speketh  to  his  frend 
wordes  of  swetenesse  and  of  plesaunce,  he  setteth  a  net 
beforne  his  feet  to  cacchen  him.  And  therfore  sayth 
Tullius,  Encline  not  thin  eres  to  flaterers,  ne  take  no  con- 
seil of  wordes  of  flaterie.  And  Caton  sayth,  Avise  thee 
wel,  and  eschue  wordes  of  swetenesse  and  of  plesaunce. 
And  eke  thou  shalt  eschue  the  conseilling  of  thin  olde 
enemies  that  ben  reconciled.  The  book  sayth,  that  no 
wight  retourneth  safely  into  the  grace  of  his  olde  enemie. 
And  Ysope  sayth,  Ne  trost  not  to  hem,  to  which  thou  hast 
somtime  had  werre  or  enmitee,  ne  telle  hem  not  thy  conseil. 
And  Senek  telle th  the  cause  why.  It  may  not  be,  sayth 
he,  ther  as  gret  fire  hath  long  time  endured,  that  ther  ne 
dwelleth  som  vapour  of  warmnesse.  And  therfore  saith 
Salomon,  In  thin  olde  foo  trost  thou  never.  For  sikerly, 
though  thin  enemie  be  reconciled,  and  maketh  thee  chere 
of  humilitee,  and  louteth1  to  thee  with  his  hed,  ne  trost 
him  never :  for  certes  he  maketh  thilke  feined  humilitee 
more  for  his  profite,  than  for  any  love  of  thy  persone ; 
because  that  he  demeth  to  have  victorie  over  thy  persone 

l  Bowetb. 


THE  TALE  OP  MELIBEUS.  389 

by  swiche  feined  contenance,  the  which  victorie  he  might 
not  have  by  strif  of  werre.  And  Peter  Alplionse  sayth  ; 
Make  no  felawshipwith  thin  olde  enemies,for  if  thou  do  liem 
bountee,  they  wollen  perverten  it  to  wickednesse.  And  eke 
thou  must  eschue  the  couseilling  oi  hem  that  ben  thy  ser- 
vaunts,  and  beren  thee  gret  reverence :  for  para  venture  they 
fein  it  more  for  drede  than  for  love.  And  therfore  saith  a 
philosophre  in  this  wise !  Ther  is  no  wight  parfitly  trewe 
to  him  that  he  to  sore  dredeth.  And  Tullius  sayth,  Ther 
n'is  no  might  so  gret  of  any  emperour  that  longe  may 
endure,  but  if  he  have  more  love  of  the  peple  than  drede. 
Thou  shalt  also  eschue  the  couseilling  of  folk  that  ben 
dronkelewe,  for  they  ne  can  no  conseil  hide.  For  Salomon 
sayth,  Ther  n'is  no  privetee  ther  as  regneth  dronkennesse. 
Ye  shuln  also  have  in  suspect  the  couseilling  of  swiche  folk 
as  conseille  you  o  thing  prively,  and  conseille  you  the  con- 
trarie  openly.  For  Cassiodore  sayth,  That  it  is  a  manere 
sleighte  to  hinder  his  enemy  whan  he  sheweth  to  don  a 
thing  openly,  and  werketh  prively  the  contrary.  Thou 
shalt  also  have  in  suspect  the  conseilling  of  wicked  folk, 
for  hir  conseil  is  alway  ful  of  fraude.  And  David  sayth ; 
Blisful  is  that  man  that  hath  not  folwed  the  conseilling 
of  shrewes.  Thou  shalt  also  eschue  the  conseilling  of 
yonge  folk,  for  hir  conseilling  is  not  ripe,  as  Salomon  saith. 
Now,  Sire,  sith  I  have  shewed  you  of  which  folk  ye 
shullen  take  youre  conseil,  and  of  which  folk  ye  shullen 
eschue  the  conseil,  now  wol  I  teche  you  how  ye  shuln  ex- 
amine your  conseil  after  the  doctrine  of  Tullius.  In  ex- 
amining than  of  your  conseillours,  ye  shuln  considre  many 
thinges.  Alderfirst  thou  shalt  considre  that  in  thilke  thing 
that  thou  purposest,  and  upon  what  thing  that  thou  wolt 
have  conseil,  that  veray  trouthe  be  said  and  conserved ; 
this  is  to  say,  telle  trewely  thy  tale :  for  he  that  sayth  false, 
may  not  wel  be  conseilled  in  that  cas,  of  which  he  lieth. 
And  after  this,  thou  shalt  considre  the  thinges  that  accorden 
to  that  thou  purposest  for  to  do  by  thy  conseillours,  if 
reson  accord  therto,  and  eke  if  thy  might  may  atteine 
therto,  and  if  the  more  part  and  the  better  part  of  thin 
conseillours  accorden  therto  or  no.  Than  shalt  thou  con- 
sidre what  thing  shal  folwe  of  that  conseilling;  as  hate, 
pe©>,  werre,  grace,  profite,  or  domage,  and  many  other 
thinges:  and  in  alle  thinges  thou  shalt  chesethe  beste,and 
weive  alle  other  thinges.  Than  shalt  thou  considre  of 
what  roote  is  engendred  the  matere  of  thy  conseil,  and 
33* 


390  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

what  fruit  it  may  conceive  and  engendre.  Thou  shalt  eke 
considre  alle  the  causes,  from  whennes  they  ben  sprongen. 
And  whan  thou  hast  examined  thy  conseil,  as  I  have  said, 
and  which  partie  is  the  better  and  more  profitable,  and 
hast'appreved  it  by  many  wise  folk  and  olde,  than  shalt 
thou  considre,  it  thou  mayst  performe  it  and  maken  of  it  a 
good  ende.  For  certes  reson  wol  not  that  any  man  shulde 
beginne  a  thing,  but  if  he  mighte  performe  it  as  him 
oughte:  ne  no  wight  shulde  take  upon  him  so  hevy  a 
charge,  that  he  might  not  beren  it.  For  the  proverbe 
sayth;  he  that  to  muche  embraceth  distreineth  litel.  And 
Caton  sayth;  assay  to  do  swiche  thinges  as  thou  hast 
power  to  don,  lest  the  charge  oppresse  thee  so  sore,  that 
thee  behoveth  to  weive  thing  that  thou  hast  begonne. 
And  if  so  be  that  thou  be  in  doute,  whether  thou  mayst 
performe  a  thing  or  non,  chese  rather  to  suffre  than  to 
beginne.  And  Peter  Alphonse  sayth ;  If  thou  hast  might 
to  don  a  thing,  of  which  thou  must  repente,  it  is  better 
nay  than  ya :  this  is  to  sayn,  that  thee  is  better  to  holde 
thy  tonge  stille  than  for  to  speke.  Than  mayst  thou  un- 
derstonde  by  stronger  resons,  that  if  thou  hast  power  to 
performe  a  werk,  of  which  thou  shalt  repente,  than  is  thee 
better  that  thou  suffre  than  beginne.  Wei  sain  they  that 
defenden  every  wight  to  assaye  a  thing  of  which  he  is  in 
doute,  whether  he  may  performe  it  or  non.  And  after 
whan  ye  han  examined  youre  conseil,  as  I  have  said  beforne, 
and  knowen  wel  that  ye  moun  performe  youre  emprise, 
conferme  it  than  sadly1  til  it  be  at  an  ende. 

Now  is  it  reson  and  time  that  I  shewe  you  whan,  and 
wherfore,  that  ye  moun  chaunge  your  conseil,  withouten 
repreve.  Sothly,  a  man  may  change  his  purpos  and  his 
conseil,  if  the  cause  ceseth,  or  whan  a  newe  cas  betideth. 
For  the  lawe  saith,  that  upon  thinges  that  newly  betiden, 
behoveth  newe  conseil.  And  Seneca  sayth ;  if  thy  conseil 
is  comen  to  the  eres  of  thin  enemies,  chaunge  thy  conseil. 
Thou  mayst  also  chaunge  thy  conseil,  if  so  be  that  thou 
find  that  by  errour,  or  by  other  cause,  harme  or  damage 
may  betide.  Also  if  thy  conseil  be  dishoneste,  other  elles2 
come  of  dishoneste  cause,  chaunge  thy  conseil:  for  the 
lawes  sain,  that  all  behestes  that  ben  dishoneste  ben  of  no 
value :  and  eke,  if  so  be  that  it  be  impossible,  or  may  not 
goodly  be  performed  or  kept. 

»  Seriously.  *  Or  else. 


THE  TALE  OF   MELIBEUS.  391 

And  take  this  for  a  general  reule,  that  every  conseil 
that  is  affermed  so  strongly,  that  it  may  not  be  chaunged 
for  no  condition  that  may  betide,  I  say  that  thilke  conseil 
is  wicked. 

This  Melibeus,  whan  he  had  herd  the  doctrine  of  his  wif 
dame  Prudence,  answered  in  this  wise.  Dame,  quod  he,  as 
yet  unto  this  time  ye  han  wel  and  covenably  taught  me,  as 
in  general,  how  I  shal  governe  me  in  the  chesing  and  in 
the  withholding  of  my  conseillours :  but  now  wold  I  fain 
that  ye  wold  condescend  in  especial,  and  telle  me  how 
liketh  you,  or  what  semeth  you  by  oure  conseillours  that 
we  han  chosen  in  oure  present  nede. 

My  lord,  quod  she,  I  Deseche  you  in  alle  humblesse,that 
ye  wol  not  wilfully  replie  agein  my  resons,  ne  distempre 
your  herte,  though  I  speke  thing  that  you  displese ;  for  God 
wote  that,  as  in  min  entente,  I  speke  it  for  your  beste,  for 
youre  honour  and  for  youre  profite  eke,  and  sothly  I  hope 
that  youre  benignitee  wol  taken  it  in  patience.  And  trosteth, 
me  wel,  quod  she,  that  youre  conseil  as  in  this  cas  ne 
shulde  not  (as  to  speke  proprely)  be  called  a  conseilling, 
but  a  motion  or  a  moving  of  fohe,  in  which  conseil  ye  han 
erred  in  many  a  sondry  wise. 

First  and  forward,  ye  han  erred  in  the  assembling  of 
youre  conseillours ;  for  ye  sholde  first  han  cleped  a  fewe 
folk  to  youre  conseil,  and  after  ye  mighte  han  shewed  it 
to  mo  folk,  if  it  hadde  be  nede.  But  certes  ye  han  so- 
deinly  cleped  to  your  conseil  a  gret  multitude  of  peple,  ful 
chargeant  and  ful  anoyous  for  to  here.  Also  ye  han  erred, 
for  ther  as  ye  shulde  han  only  cleped  to  youre  conseile  youre 
trewe  frendes,  olde  and  wise,  ye  han  cleped  straunge  folk, 
yonge  folk,  false  flaterers,  and  enemies  reconciled,  and  folk 
that  don  you  reverence  withouten  love.  And  eke  ye  han 
erred,  for  ye  han  brought  with  you  to  youre  conseil  ire, 
coveitise,  and  hastifnesse,  the  which  three  thinges  ben  con- 
trary to  every  conseil  honest  and  profitable :  the  which 
three  thinges  ye  ne  han  not  anientissed1  or  destroyed, 
neither  in  youreself  ne  in  youre  conseillours,  as  you  ought. 
Ye  han  erred  also,  for  ye  han  shewed  to  youre  conseillours 
youre  talent  and  youre  affections  to  make  werre  anon,  and 
for  to  do  vengeaunce,  and  they  han  espied  by  youre  wordes 
to  what  thing  ye  ben  enclined:  and  tnerfore  nan  they  con- 
sented you  rather  to  youre  talent,  than  to  youre  profite.  Ye 

1  Seduced  to  nothing. 


392  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

ban  erred  also,  for  it  semeth  that  you  sufficeth  to  han  ben 
conseilled  by  thise  conseillours  only,  and  with  litel  avis, 
wheras  in  so  high  and  so  gret  a  nede,  it  had  ben  necessarie 
mo  conseillours,  and  more  deliberation  to  perlbrme  your 
emprise.  Ye  han  erred  also,  for  ye  han  not  examined  your 
conseil  in  the  foresaid  manere,  ne  in  due  manere,  as  the 
cas  requireth.  Ye  han  erred  also,  for  ye  han  maked  no 
division  betwix  youre  conseillours ;  this  is  to  sayn,  betwix 
your  trewe  frendes  and  your  feined  conseillours:  ne  ye  han 
not  knowe  the  w ille  of  your  trewe  frendes,  olde  and  wise, 
but  ye  han  cast  alle  hir  wordes  in  an  hochepot,1  and  en- 
clined  your  herte  to  the  more  part  and  to  the  greter  nom- 
bre,  and  ther  be  ye  condescended ;  and  sith  ye  wot  wel 
that  men  shuln  alway  finde  a  greter  nombre  of  fooles  than 
of  wise  men,  and  therfore  the  conseillings  that  ben  at  con- 
gregations and  multitudes  of  folk,  ther  as  men  take  more 
regard  to  the  nombre,  than  to  the  sapience  of  persones,  ye 
seen  wel,  that  in  swiche  conseillings  fooles  han  the  maistrie. 
Melibeus  answered  and  said  agein :  I  graunte  wel  that  I 
have  erred ;  but  ther  as  thou  hast  told  me  herebeforne, 
that  he  n'is  not  to  blame  that  chaungeth  his  conseil  in 
certain  cas,  and  for  certain  and  just  causes,  I  am  al  redy 
to  chaunge  my  conseil  right  as  thou  wolt  devise.  The 
proverbe  sayth ;  for  to  don  sinne  is  mannish,2  but  certes 
for  to  persevere  long  in  sinne  is  werke  of  the  Divel. 

To  this  sentence  answered  anon  dame  Prudence,  and 
saide ;  examineth  (quod  she)  wel  your  conseil,  and  let  us  see 
the  which  of  hem  han  spoken  most  resonably,  and  taught 
you  best  conseil.  And  for  as  muche  as  the  examination  is 
necessarie,  let  us  beginne  at  the  Surgiens  and  at  the  Phy- 
siciens,  that  first  spaken  in  this  mater.  I  say  that  Physiciens 
and  Surgiens  han  sayde  you  in  youre  conseil  discretly,  as 
hem  oughte:  and  in  hir  speche  saiden  ful  wisely,  that  to 
the  office  of  hem  apperteineth  to  don  to  every  wight  honour 
and  profite,  and  no  wight  to  anoye,  and  after  hir  craft  to 
don  gret  diligence  unto  the  cure  of  hem  which  that  they 
han  in  hir  governaunce.  And,  Sire,  right  as  they  han  an- 
swered wisely  and  discretly,  right  so  rede  I  that  they  be 
highly  and  soverainly  guerdoned3  for  hir  noble  speche,  and 
eke  for  they  shulden  do  the  more  ententif  besinesse  in  the 
curation  of  thy  dere  doughter.  For  al  be  it  so  that  they 
ben  youre  frendes,  therfore  shullen  ye  not  suffren,  that  they 

1  Like  our  "  bodge  podge,"  a  mixture  of  all  sorts  of  things  thrown 
together.  3  Human.  *  Rewarded. 


THE  TALE  OP  MELIBEUS.  393 

serve  you  for  nought,  but  ye  oughte  the  rather  guerdone 
hem,  and  shewe  hem  youre  largesse.  And  as  touching  the 
proposition,  which  the  Physiciens  entreteden  in  this  cas, 
this  is  to  sain,  that  in  maladies,  that  acontrarie  is  warished 
by  another  contrarie ;  I  wold  fain  knowe  how  ye  under- 
stonde  thilke  text,  and  what  is  youre  sentence.     Certes, 

Suod  Melibeus,  I  understond  it  in  this  wise ;  that  right  as 
ley  han  don  me  a  contrarie,  right  so  shulde  I  don  hem 
another;  for  right  as  they  han  venged  hem  upon  me  and 
don  me  wrong,  right  so  shal  I  venge  me  upon  hem,  and  don 
hem  wrong,  and  than  have  I  cured  a  contrarie  by  another. 
Lo,  lo,  quod  dame  Prudence,  how  lightly  is  every  man 
enclined  to  his  owen  desire  and  his  owen  plesaunce !  certea 
(quod  she)  the  wordes  of  the  Physiciens  ne  shulden  not  han 
ben  understonden  in  that  wise ;  for  certes  wickednesse  is 
not  contrarie  to  wickednesse,  ne  vengeaunce  to  vengeaunce, 
ne  wrong  to  wrong,  but  they  ben  semblable:  and  therfore 
a  vengeaunce  is  not  warished  by  another  vengeaunce,  ne  a 
wrong  by  another  wrong,  but  everich  of  hem  encreseth 
and  aggreggeth  other.  But  certes  the  wordes  of  the 
Physiciens  shulden  ben  understonde  in  this  wise ;  for  good 
and  wickednesse  ben  two  contraries,  and  pees  and  werrc, 
vengeaunce  and  suffraunce,  discord  and  accord,  and  many 
other  t hinges:  but  certes,  wickednesse -shal  be  warished 
by  goodnesse,  discord  by  accord,  werre  by  pees,  and  so 
forth  of  other  thinges.  And  hereto  accordeth  Seint  Poule 
the  Apostle  in  many  places :  he  sayth,  ne  yelde  not  harme 
for  harme,  ne  wicked  speche  for  wicked  speche,  but  do  wel 
to  him  that  doth  to  thee  harme,  and  blesse  him  that  saith 
to  thee  harme.  And  in  many  other  places  he  amone&teth 
pees  and  accord.  But  now  wol  I  speke  to  you  of  the 
conseil,  which  that  was  yeven  to  you  by  the  men  of  la  we, 
and  the  wise  folk,  and  old  folke,  that  sayden  alle  by  on 
accord  as  ye  han  herd  beforne,  that  over  alle  thinges  yo 
shuin  do  youre  diligence  to  kepe  youre  persone,  and  to 
warnestore1  your  house :  and  saiden  also,  that  in  this  cas 
you  oughte  for  to  werchen  ful  avisely  and  with  gret  deli- 
beration. And,  sire,  as  to  the  first  point,  that  toucheth 
the  keping  of  youre  persone,  ye  shuin  undeistond,  that  he 
that  hath  werre,  shal  ever  more  devoutly  and  mekely 
preien  beforne  alle  thinges,  that  Jesu  Crist  of  his  mercie 
wol  han  him  in  his  protection,  and  ben  his  soveraine 

1  Furnish. 


394  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

helping  at  his  nede:  for  certes  in  this  world  ther  is  no 
wight  that  may  he  conseilled  ne  kept  suffisantly,  withoute 
the  keping  of  oure  lord  Jesu  Crist.  To  this  sentence  ac- 
cordeth  the  Prophete  David  that  sayth :  if  God  ne  kepe 
the  citee,  in  idel  waketh  he  that  kepeth  it.  Now,  sire, 
than  shuln  ye  committe  the  keping  of  youre  persone  to 
youre  trewe  frendes,  that  hen  appreved  and  yknowe,  and 
of  hem  shuln  ye  axen  helpe,  youre  persone  for  to  kepe. 
For  Caton  saith :  if  thou  have  nede  of  helpe,  axe  it  of  thy 
irendes,  for  ther  n'is  non  so  good  a  physicien  as  thy  trewe 
frend.  And  after  this  than  shuln  ye  kepe  you  fro  alle 
straunge  folk,  and  fro  lieres,  and  have  alway  in  suspect  hir 
compaignie.  For  Piers  Alphonse  sayth :  ne  take  no  com- 
paignie  by  the  way  of  a  straunge  man,  but  if  so  be  that 
thou  have  knowen  him  of  lenger  time :  and  if  so  be  that 
he  falle  into  thy  compaignie  paraventure  withouten  thin 
assent,  enquere  than,  as  subtilly  as  thou  maist,  of  his  con- 
versation, and  of  his  lif  beforne,  and  feine  thy  way,  saying 
thou  wolt  go  thider  as  thou  wolt  not  go :  and  if  he  here  a 
spere,  hold  thee  on  the  right  side,  and  if  he  bere  a  swerd, 
hold  thee  on  his  left  side.  And  after  this  than  shuln  ye 
kepe  you  wisely  trom  all  swiche  manere  peple  as  I  have 
sayed  before,  and  hem  and  hir  conseil  eschue.  And  after 
this  than  shuln  ye  kepe  you  in  swiche  manere,  that  for 
any  presumption  of  youre  strengthe,  that  ye  ne  despise  not, 
ne  account  not  the  might  of  your  adversary  so  lite,  that 
ye  let1  the  keping  of  your  persone  for  your  presumption  ; 
for  every  wise  man  dredeth  his  enemie.  And  Salomon 
sayth ;  welful2  is  he  that  of  alle  hath  drede  ;  for  certes, 
he  that  thurgh  the  hardinesse  of  his  herte,  and  thurgh  the 
hardinesse  of  himself,  hath  to  gret  presumption,  him  shal 
evil  betide.  Than  shuln  ye  evermo  countrewaite  em- 
boyssements,  and  alle  espiaile.  For  Senek  sayth,  that  the 
wise  man  that  dredeth  harmes,  eschueth  harmes  ;  ne  he 
ne  falleth  into  perils,  that  perils  eschueth.  And  al  be  it 
so,  that  it  seme  that  thou  art  in  siker  place,  yet  shalt  thou 
alway  do  thy  diligence  in  keping  of  thy  persone ;  this  is  to 
sayn,  ne  be  not  negligent  to  kepe  thin  persone,  not  only 
fro  thy  gretest  enemy,  but  also  fro  thy  leste  enemy. 
Senek  sayth ;  a  man  that  is  wel  avised,  he  dredeth  his 
leste  enemie.  Ovide  sayth,  that  the  litel  wesel  wol  slee 
the  gret  boll  and  the  wilde  hart.    And  the  book3  sayth ;  a 

1  Let  go  of.  s  Prosperous,  happy.  *  /.  e.,  the  Bible. 


THE   TALE   OF   MELIBEUS.  395 

litel^thorne  may  prikke  a  king  ful  sore,  and  a  litel  hound 
wol  hold  the  wilde  bore.  But  natheles,  I  say  not  thou 
shalt  be  so  coward,  that  thou  doute  wher  as  is  no  drede. 
The  book  saith,  that  som  men  [ban  taught  hir  deceivour, 
for  they  han  to  muche  dreded]  to  be  deceived.  Yet  shalt 
thou  drede  to  be  empoysoned  ;  and  [therfore  shalt  thou] 
kepe  thee  fro  the  compagnie  of  scorners:  for  the  book 
sayth,  with  scorners  ne  make  no  compagnie,  but  flee  hir 
wordes  as  venime. 

Now  as  to  the  second  point,  wheras  youre  wise  conseil- 
lours  conseilled  you  to  warnestore  your  hous  with  gret 
diligence,  I  wolde  fain  knowe  how  that  ye  understode 
thilko  wordes,  and  what  is  youre  sentence. 

Melibeus  answered  and  saide ;  Certes  I  understond  it 
in  this  wise,  that  I  shal  warnestore1  min  hous  with  toures, 
swiche  as  han  castelles  and  other  manere  edifices,  and 
armure,  and  artelries,  by  which  thinges  I  may  my  persone 
and  myn  hous  so  kepen  and  defenden,  that  min  enemies 
shuln  ben  in  drede  min  hous  for  to  approche. 

To  this  sentence  answered  anon  Prudence.  Warne- 
storing  (quod  she)  of  heighe  toures  and  of  grete  edifices, 
is  with  grete  costages  and  with  grete  travaille ;  and  whan 
that  they  ben  accompliced,  yet  ben  they  not  worth  a  stre, 
but  if  they  ben  defended  by  trewe  frendes,  that  ben  olde 
and  wise.  And  understonde  wel,  that  the  greteste  and 
strongeste  garneson  that  a  riche  man  may  have,  as  wel  to 
kepen  his  persone  as  his  goodes,  is,  that  he  be  beloved 
with  his  subgets,  and  with  his  neigheboures.  For  thus 
sayth  Tullius,  that  ther  is  a  maner  garneson,  that  no  man 
may  venquish  ne  discomfite,  and  that  is  a  lord  to  be 
beloved  of  his  citizeins,  and  of  his  peple. 

Now,  sire,  as  to  the  thridde  point,  wheras  youre  olde  and 
wise  conseillours  sayden,  that  you  ne  oughte  not  sodeinly 
ne  hastily  proceden  in  this  nede,  but  that  you  oughte 
purveyen2  and  appareilen  you  in  this  cas,  with  gret  dili- 
gence and  gret  deliberation ;  trewely,  I  trowe,  that  they 
sayden  right  wisely  and  right  soth.  For  Tullius  sayth : 
in  every  nede  er  thou  beginne  it,  appareile  thee  with  gret 
diligence.  Than  say  I,  that  in  vengeaunce  taking,  in  werre, 
in  bataille,  and  in  warnestoring,3  er  thou  beginne,  I 
rede  that  thou  appareile  thee  therto,  and  do  it  with  gret 
deliberation.     For  Tullius  sayth,  that  longe  appareiling 

'  Provide,  furnish.  s  Provide.  *  Famishing. 


396  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

tofore  the  bataille,  maketh  short  victorie.  And  Cassio 
dorus  sayth:  the  garneson  is  stronger,  whan  it  is  longe 
time  avised. 

But  now  let  us  speken  of  the  conseil  that  was  accorded 
by  youre  neigheboures,  swiche  as  don  you  reverence 
withouten  love ;  youre  olde  enemies  reconciled  ;  your 
flatereres,  that  conseilled  you  certain  thinges  prively,  and 
openly  conseilled  you  the  contrarie ;  the  yonge  folk  also, 
that  conseilled  you  to  venge  you,  and  to  make  werre  anon. 
Certes,  sire,  as  I  have  sayde  beforne,  ye  han  gretly  erred 
to  han  cleped  swiche  maner  folk  to  youre  conseil,  which 
conseillours  ben  ynough  reproved  by  the  resons  aforesaid. 
But  natheles,  let  us  now  descende  to  the  special.  Ye  shul 
first  proceden  after  the  doctrine  of  Tullius.  Certes  the 
trouthe  of  this  niatere  or  of  this  conseil  nedeth  not  dili- 
gently to  enquere,  for  it  is  wel  wist,  which  they  ben  that 
han  don  to  you  this  trespas  and  vilanie,  and  how  many 
trespasours,  and  in  what  manere  they  han  don  to  you  all 
this  wrong,  and  all  this  vilanie.  And  after  this,  than 
shuln  ye  examine  the  second  condition,  which  that  the 
same  Tullius  addeth  in  this  matere.  For  Tullius  putteth 
a  thing,  which  that  he  clepeth  consenting :  this  is  to  sayn, 
who  ben  they,  and  which  ben  they,  and  how  many,  that 
consenten  to  thy  conseil  in  thy  wilfulnesse,  to  don  hastif 
vengeaunce.  And  let  us  considre  also  who  ben  they,  and 
how  many  ben  they,  and  which  ben  they,  that  consenteden 
to  youre  adversaries.  .  As  to  the  first  point,  it  is  wel  knowen 
which  folk  they  be  that  consenteden  to  youre  wilfulnesse. 
For  trewely,  all  tho  that  conseileden  you  to  maken  sodein 
werre,  ne  ben  not  youre  frendes.  Let  us  now  considre 
which  ben  they  that  ye  holden  so  gretly  youre  frendes,  as 
to  youre  persone :  for  al  be  it  so  that  ye  be  mighty  and 
riche,  certes  ye  ne  ben  but  allone :  for  certes  ye  ne  han  no 
child  but  a  doughter,  ne  ye  ne  han  no  brethren,  ne  cosins 
germains,  ne  non  other  nigh  kinrede,  wherfore  that  youre 
enemies  for  drede  shulde  stinte  to  plede  with  you,  or  to 
destroye  youre  persone.  Ye  knowen  also,  that  your 
richesses  moten  ben  dispended  in  diverse  parties ;  and 
whan  that  every  wight  hath  his  part,  they  ne  wo  lien  taken 
but  litel  regard  to  venge  youre  deth.  But  thin  enemies 
ben  three,  and  they  han  many  brethren,  children,  cosins, 
and  other  nigh  kinrede :  and  though  so  were,  that  thou 
haddest  slain  of  hem  two  or  three,  yet  dwellen  there  ynow 
to  wreken  hir  deth  and  to  slee  thy  persone.    And  though 


THE  TALE  OP  MELIBEUS.  397 

bo  be  that  youre  kinrede  be  more  stedefast  and  siker  than 
the  kin  of  your  adversaries,  yet  natheles  youre  kinrede  is 
but  a  fer  kinrede ;  they  ben  but  litel  sibbe1  to  you,  and  the 
kin  of  youre  enemies  ben  nigh  sibbe  to  hem.  And  certes 
as  in  that,  hir  condition  is  better  than  youres.  Than  let 
us  considre  also  of  the  conseilling  of  hem  that  conseilled 
you  to  take  sodein  vengeance,  whether  it  accorde  to  reson : 
and  certes,  ye  knowe  wel,  nay ;  for  as  by  right  and  reson, 
ther  may  no  man  taken  vengeaunce  on  no  wight,  but  the 

t'uge  that  hath  the  jurisdiction  of  it,  whan  it  is  ygraunted 
lim  to  take  thilke  vengeaunce  hastily,  or  attemprely,  as 
the  lawe  requireth.  And  yet  moreover  of  thilke  word 
that  Tullius  clepeth  consenting,  thou  shalt  considre,  if  thy 
might  and  thy  power  may  consente  and  suffice  to  thy 
wilfulnesse,  and  to  thy  conseillours :  and  certes,  thou  mayest 
wel  say,  that  nay ;  for  sikerly,  as  for  to  speke  proprely,  we 
moun  do  nothing  but  only  swiche  thing  as  we  moun  don 
rightfully:  and  certes  rightfully  ye  ne  mowe  take  no  ven- 
geance, as  of  your  proper  auctoritee.  Than  mowe  ye  sen 
that  your  power  ne  consenteth  not,  ne  accordeth  not  to 
youre  wilfulnesse.  Now  let  us  examine  the  thridde  point, 
that  TuUius  clepeth  consequent.  Thou  shalt  understonde, 
that  the  vengeaunce  that  thou  purposest  for  to  take,  is  the 
consequent,  and  therof  folweth  another  vengeance,  peril, 
and  werre,  and  other  damages  withouten  nombre,  of  which 
we  ben  not  ware,  as  at  this  time.  And  as  touching  the 
fourthe  point,  that  Tullius  clepeth  engendring,  thou  shalt 
consider,  that  this  wrong  which  that  is  don  to  thee,  is 
engendred  of  the  hate  of  thin  enemies,  and  of  the  ven- 
geaunce taking  upon  that  wold  engender  another  ven- 
geaunce, and  muchel  sorwe  and  wasting  of  richesses,  as  I 
sayde  ere. 

Now,  sire^  as  to  the  point,  that  Tullius  clepeth  causes, 
which  that  is  the  last  point,  thou  shalt  understonde,  that 
the  wrong  that  thou  hast  received,  hath  certaine  causes, 
which  that  clerkes  clepen  oriens,  and  efficiens,  and  causa 
lonainqua,a.nd  causa  propinqua,  this  is  to  sayn,the  fer  cause, 
ana  the  nigh  cause.  The  fer  cause  is  almighty  God,  that 
is  cause  of  alle  thinges  :  the  ner  cause,  is  thin  three  ene- 
mies ;  the  cause  accidental  was  hate ;  the  cause  material, 
ben  the  five  woundes  of  thy  doughter ;  the  cause  formal, 
is  the  maner  of  hir  working,  that  broughten  ladders,  ana 

»  Belated,  allied. 
34 


398  THE   CANTERBURY   TALES. 

clomben  in  at  thy  windowes  ;  the  cause  final  was  for  to 
slee  thy  doughter  ;  it  letted  not  in  as  muche  as  in  hem  was. 
But  for  to  speke  of  the  ler  cause,  as  to  what  ende  they 
shuln  come,  or  what  shal  finally  betide  of  hem  in  this 
cas,  ne  can  I  not  deme,  but  by  connecting  and  supposing : 
for  we  shuln  suppose,  that  they  shuln  come  to  a  wicked 
ende,  because  that  the  book  of  Decrees  sayth  :  Selden  or 
with  gret  peine  ben  causes  ybrought  to  a  good  ende,  whan 
they  ben  badly  begonne. 

Now,sire,  if  men  wold  axen  me,  why  that  Godsuffred  men 
to  do  you  this  vilanie,  certes  I  can  not  wel  answer,  as  for 
no  sothfastnesse.  For  the  Apostle  sayth,  that  the  sciences, 
and  the  jugements  of  oure  Lord  God  Almighty  ben  ful 
depe  ;  ther  may  no  man  comprehend  ne  serche  hem  suf- 
fisantly.  Natheles,  by  certain  presumptions  and  conject- 
ings,  I  hold  and  beleve,  that  God,  which  that  is  ful  of 
justice  and  of  rightwisenesse,  hath  suffered  this  betide,  by 
just  cause  resonable. 

Thy  name  is  Melibee,  this  is  to  sayn,  a  man  that 
drinketh  hony.  Thou  hast  dronke  so  muche  hony  of 
swete  temporel  richesses,  and  delices,  and  honours  of  this 
world,  that  thou  art  dronken,  and  hast  forgetten  Jesu 
Crist  thy  creatour :  thou  ne  hast  not  don  to  him  swiche 
honour  and  reverence  as  thee  ought,  ne  thou  ne  hast  wel 
ytaken  kepe  to  the  wordes  of  Ovide,  that  sayth :  Under 
the  honey  of  the  goodes  of  thy  body  is  hid  the  venime 
that  sleth  the  soule.  And  Salomon  sayth :  If  thou  hast 
founden  hony,  ete  of  it  that  sufficeth ;  for  if  thou  ete  of  it 
out  of  mesure,  thou  shalt  spewe,  and  be  nedy  and  poure. 
And  peraventure  Crist  hath  thee  in  despit,  and  hath 
tourned  away  fro  thee  his  face,  and  his  eres  of  miseri- 
corde ;  and  also  he  hath  suffred,  that  thou  hast  ben 
punished  in  the  manere  that  thou  hast  ytrespased.  Thou 
hast  don  sinne  again  oure  Lord  Crist,  for  certes  the  three 
enemies  of  mankind,  that  is  to  sayn,  the  flesh,  the  fend,  and 
the  world,  thou  hast  suffred  hem  entre  into  thin  herte 
wilfully,  by  the  windowes  of  thy  body,  and  hast  not  de- 
fended thyself  suflisantly  ageiu  hir  assautes,  and  hir  temp- 
tations, so  that  they  han  wounded  thy  soule  in  five  places, 
this  is  to  sayn  the  dedly  sinnes  that  ben  entred  into  thyn 
herte  by  thy  five  wittes :  and  in  the  same  manere  our 
Lord  Crist  hath  wold  and  suffred,  that  thy  three  enemies 
ben  entred  into  thyn  hous  by  the  windowes,  and  han 
ywounded  thy  doughter  in  the  foresayd  manere. 


THE  TALE  OP   MELIBEUS.  399 

Certes,  quod  Melibee,  I  see  wel  that  ye  enforce  you 
muchel  by  wordes  to  overcomen  me,  in  swiche- manere, 
that  I  shal  not  venge  me  on  mine  enemies,  shewing  me  the 
perils  and  the  evils  that  mighten  falle  of  this  vengeaunce : 
but  who  so  wolde  considre  in  alle  vengeaunces  the  perils 
and  evils  that  mighten  sue  of  vengeaunce  taking,  a  man 
wold  never  take  vengeaunce,  and  that  were  harme :  for 
by  the  vengeaunce  taking  ben  the  wicked  men  dissevered 
fro  the  goode  men.  And  they  that  han  will  to  do  wicked- 
nesse,re8treinenhirwickedpurpos,  whan  they  sen  the  punish- 
ing and  the  chastising  of  the  trespasours.  [To  this  answered 
dame  Prudence :  Certes,  quod  she,  I  graunte  you  that  of 
vengeaunce  taking  cometh  muche  evil  and  much e  good ;  but 
vengeaunce  taking  apperteineth  not  to  everich  on,  but  only 
to  juges,  and  to  hem  that  han  the  jurisdiction  over  the 
trespasours  ;]  and  yet  say  I  more,  that  right  as  a  singuler 
persone  sinneth  in  taking  vengeaunce  of  another  man, 
right  so  sinneth  the  juge,  if  he  do  no  vengeaunce  of  hem 
that  it  han  deserved.  For  Senek  sayth  thus :  That  maister 
(he  sayth)  is  good,  that  preveth  shrewes.  And  Cassiodore 
saith :  A  man  dredeth  to  do  outrages,  whan  he  wot  and 
knoweth,  that  it  displeseth  to  the  juges  and  soveraines. 
And  another  sayth :  The  juge  that  dredeth  to  do  right, 
maketh  men  shrewes.  And  Seint  Poule  the  Apostle  sayth 
in  his  Epistle,  whan  he  writeth  unto  the  Bomaines,  that 
the  juges  beren  not  the  spere  withouten  cause,  but  they 
beren  it  to  punishe  the  shrewes  and  misdoers,  and  for  to 
defende  the  goode  men.  If  ye  wiln  than  take  vengeaunce 
of  youre  enemies,  ye  shuln  retourne  or  have  your  recours 
to  the  juge,  that  hath  the  jurisdiction  upon  hem,  and  he 
shal  punishe  hem,  as  the  la  we  axeth  and  requireth. 

A,  sayd  Melibee,  this  vengeaunce  liketh  me  nothing.  I 
bethink  me  now,  and  take  hede  how  that  fortune  hath 
norished  me  fro  my  childhode,  and  hath  holpen  me  to 
passe  many  a  stronge  pas  :  now  wol  I  assayen  hire,  trow- 
ing, with  Goddes  helpe,  that  she  shal  helpe  me  my  shame 
for  to  venge. 

Certes,  quod  Prudence,  if  ye  wol  werke  by  my  conseil, 
ye  shuln  not  assaye  fortune  by  no  way :  ne  ye  ne  shuln 
not  lene  or  bowe  unto  hire,  after  the  wordes  of  Senek  ; 
for  thinges  that  ben  folily  don,  and  tho  that  ben  don  in 
hope  of  fortune,  shuln  never  come  to  good  ende.  And  as 
the  same  Senek  sayth :  The  more  clere  and  the  more 
shining  that  fortune  is,  the  more  brotel  and  the  soner 


400  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

broke  she  is.  Trusteth  not  in  hire,  for  she  n'is  not  stede- 
fast  ne  stable :  for  whan  thou  trowest  to  be  most  siker 
and  seure  of  hire  helpe,  she  wol  faille  and  deceive  thee. 
And  wheras  ye  sayn,  that  fortune  hath  norished  you  fro 
youre  childhade,  I  say  that  in  so  muchel  ye  shuln  the  lesse 
truste  in  hire,  and  in  hire  wit.  For  Senek  saith :  What 
man  that  is  norished  by  fortune,  she  maketh  him  a  gret 
fool.  Now  than  sin  ye  desire  and  axe  vengeaunce,  and 
the  vengeaunce,  that  is  don  after  the  lawe  and  before  the 
juge,  ne  liketh  you  not,  and  the  vengeaunce,  that  is  don 
in  hope  of  fortune,  is  perilous  and  uncertain,  than  have  ye 
non  other  remedie,  but  for  to  have  your  recours  unto  the 
soveraine  juge,  that  vengeth  alle  vilanies,  and  wronges  ; 
and  he  shal  venge  you,  after  that  himself  witnesseth, 
whereas  he  saith;  Leveth  the  vengeaunce  to  me,  and  I 
shal  do  it. 

Melibeus  answered:  If  I  ne  venge  me  of  the  vilanie 
that  men  han  don  to  me,  I  sompne1  or  warne  hem,  that 
han  don  to  me  vilanie,  and  alle  other,  to  do  me  another 
vilanie.  For  it  is  written ;  If  thou  take  no  vengeaunce  of 
an  olde  vilany,  thou  sompnest  thin  adversaries  to  do  thee 
a  newe  vilanie  :  and  also  for  my  suffraunce,  men  wolden 
do  me  so  muche  vilanie,  that  I  might  neither  here  it  ne 
susteine ;  and  so  shulde  I  ben  put  and  holden  over  lowe. 
For  som  men  sain,  In  muchel  suffring  shul  many  thinges 
falle  unto  thee,  which  thou  shalt  not  mowe  sufFre. 

Certes,  quod  Prudence,  I  graunte  you  wel,  that  over- 
muchel  suffraunce  is  not  good,  but  yet  ne  folweth  it  not 
therof,  that  every  persone  to  whom  men  don  vilanie,  shuld 
take  of  it  vengeaunce :  for  that  apperteineth  and  longeth 
all  only  to  the  juges,  for  they  shul  venge  the  vilanies  and 
injuries:  and  therfore  tho  two  auctoritees,  that  ye  han 
sayd  above,  ben  only  understonden  in  the  juges:  for  whan 
they  suffren  overmuchel  the  wronges  and  vilanies  to  be 
don,  withouten  punishing,  they  sompne  not  a  man  all  only2 
for  to  do  newe  wronges,  but  they  commaunden  it :  al  so  as 
a  wise  man  sayth,  that  the  juge  that  correcteth  not  the 
sinner,  commaundeth  and  biddeth  him  do  sinne.  And  the 
juges  and  soveraines  mighten  in  hir  lond  so  muche  suffre  of 
the  shrewes  and  misdoers,  that  they  shulden  by  swiche 
suffraunce,  by  proces  of  time,  wexen  of  swiche  power  and 
might,  that  they  shuld  putte  out  the  juges  and  the  sove- 

1  Summon,  challenge.  3  /.  c,  they  not  only  summon. 


THE  TALE   OP  MELIBEUS.  401 

raines  from  hir  places,  and  atte  laste  maken  hem  lese  hir 
lordshippes. 

But  now  let  us  putte,  that  ye  have  leve  to  venge  you : 
I  say  ye  be  not  of  might  and  power,  as  now  to  venge  you : 
for  if  ye  wol  maken  comparison  unto  the  might  of  youre 
adversaries,  ye  shuln  finde  in  many  thinges,  that  I  have 
shewed  you  er  this,  that  hir  condition  is  better  than  youres, 
and  therfore  say  I,  that  it  is  good  as  now,  that  ye  suffre 
and  be  patient. 

Forthermore  ye  knowen  wel,  that  after  the  commune 
saw,  it  is  a  woodnesse,  a  man  to  strive  with  a  stronger,  or 
a  more  mighty  man  than  he  is  himself;  and  for  to  strive 
with  a  man  of  even  strengthe,  that  is  to  say,  with  as  strong 
a  man  as  he  is,  it  is  peril ;  and  for  to  strive  with  a  weker 
man,  it  is  folie ;  and  therfore  shulde  a  man  flee  striving,  as 
muchel  as  he  mighte.  For  Salomon  sayth :  It  is  a  gret 
worship  to  a  man  to  kepe  him  fro  noise  and  strif.  And  if 
it  so  happe,  that  a  man  of  greter  mighte  and  strengthe  than 
thou  art,  do  thee  grevaunce :  studie  and  besie  thee  rather 
to  stille  the  same  grevaunce,  than  for  to  venge  thee.  For 
Senek  sayth,  that  he  putteth  him  in  a  grete  peril,  that 
striveth  with  a  greter  man  than  he  is  himself  And  Caton 
sayth ;  If  a  man  of  higher  estat  or  degree,  or  more  mighty 
than  thou,  do  thee  anoye  or  grevance,  suffre  him :  for  he 
that  ones  hath  greved  thee,  may  another  time  releve  thee 
and  helpe  thee.  Yet  sette  I  cas,1  ye  have  bothe  might  and 
licence  for  to  venge  you,  I  say  that  ther  ben  ful  many 
thinges  that  shuln  restreine  you  of  vengeance  taking,  and 
make  you  for  to  encline  to  suffre,  and  for  to  han  patience 
in  the  wronges  that  han  been  don  to  you.  First  and  for- 
ward, if  ye  wol  considre  the  defautes  that  ben  in  youre 
owen  persone,  for  which  defautes  God  hath  suffred  you 
have  this  tribulation,  as  I  have  sayd  to  you  herebeforne. 
For  the  Poete  sayth,  that  we  oughten  patiently  taken  the 
tribulations  that  comen  to  us,  whan  that  we  thinken  and 
consideren,  that  we  han  deserved  to  have  hem.  And  Seint 
Gregorie  sayth,  that  whan  a  man  considereth  wel  the  nom- 
bre  of  his  defautes  and  of  his  sinnes,  the  peines  and  the 
tribulations  that  he  suffereth,  semen  the  lesse  unto  him. 
And  in  as  muche  as  him  thinketh  his  sinnes  more  hevy 
and  grevous,  in  so  muche  semeth  his  peine  the  lighter  and 
the  osier  unto  him.    Also  ye  owen  to  encline  andjbowe 

1  I  pat  the  case,  I  suppose. 
34* 


402  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

youre  herte,  to  take  the  patience  of  oure  Lord  Jesu  Crist, 
as  sayth  Seint  Peter  in  his  Epistles.  Jesu  Crist  (he  saith) 
hath  suffred  for  us,  and  yeven  ensample  to  every  man  to 
folwe  and  sue  him,  for  he  dide  never  sinne,  ne  never  came 
ther  a  vilains  word  out  of  his  mouth.  "Whan  men  cursed 
him,  he  cursed  hem  nought;  and  whan  men  heten  him,  he 
manaced  hem  nought.  Also  the  gret  patience,  which 
Seintes,  that  ben  in  Paradis,  han  had  in  tribulations  that 
they  han  suffred,  withouten  hir  desert  or  gilt,  oughte 
muchel  stirre  you  to  patience.  Forthermore,  ye  shulde 
enforce  you  to  have  patience,  considering  that  the  tribu- 
lations of  this  world  but  litel  while  endure,  and  sone  passed 
ben  and  gon,  and  the  joye  that  a  man  seketh  to  han  by 
patience  in  tribulations  is  perdurable ;  after  that  the 
Apostle  sayth  in  his  Epistle ;  the  joye  of  God,  he  sayth,  is 
perdurable,  that  is  to  sayn,  everlasting.  Also  troweth  and 
beleveth  stedfastly,  that  he  n'is  not  wel  ynorished  ne  wel 
ytaught,  that  cannot  have  patience,  or  wol  not  receive 
patience.  For  Salomon  sayth,  that  the  doctrine  and  wit 
of  a  man  is  knowen  by  patience.  And  in  another  place  he 
sayeth,  that  he  that  is  patient,  governeth  him  by  gret 
prudence.  And  the  same  Salomon  saith:  The  angrie  and 
wrathful  man  maketh  noises,  and  the  patient  man  attem- 
preth  and  stilleth  hem.  He  saith  also,  It  is  more  worth 
to  be  patient  than  for  to  be  right  strong.  And  he  that 
may  have  the  lordshipe  of  his  owen  herte,  is  more  to  preise, 
than  he  that  by  his  force  or  strengthe  taketh  gret  citees. 
And  therfore  sayth  Seint  James  in  his  Epistle,  that 
patience  is  a  gret  vertue  of  perfection. 

Certes,  quod  Melibee,  I  graunte  you,  Dame  Prudence, 
that  patience  is  a  gret  vertue  of  perfection,  but  every  man 
may  not  have  the  perfection  that  ye  seken,  ne  I  am  not  of 
the  nombre  of  the  right  parfit  men:  for  min  herte  may 
never  be  in  pees,  unto  the  time  it  be  venged.  And  al  be  it 
so,  that  it  was  gret  peril  to  min  enemies  to  do  me  a  vilanie 
in  taking  vengeaunce  upon  me,  yet  token  they  non  hede  of 
the  peril,  but  fulfilleden  hir  wicked  will  and  hir  corage : 
and  therfore  me  thinketh  men  oughten  not  repreve  me, 
though  I  put  me  in  a  litel  peril  for  to  venge  me,  and 
though  I  do  a  gret  excesse,  that  is  to  sayn,  that  I  venge 
on  outrage  by  another. 

A,  quod  dame  Prudence,  ye  sayn  your  will  and  as  you 
liketn ;  but  in  no  cas  of  the  world  a  man  shulde  not  don 
outrage  ne  excesse,  for  to  vengen  him.    For  Cassiodore 


THE  TALE   OP   MELIBEUS.  403 

sayth,  that  as  evil  doth  he  that  vengeth  him  by  outrage, 
as  he  that  doth  the  outrage.  And  therfore  ye  shulu  venge 
you  alter  the  ordre  of  right,  that  is  to  sayn,  by  the  lawe, 
and  not  by  excesse,  ne  by  outrage.  And  also  if  ye  wol 
venge  you  of  the  outrage  of  youre  adversaries,  in  other 
manere  than  right  comraaundeth,  ye  sinnen.  And  ther- 
fore sayth  Senek,  that  a  man  shal  never  venge  shrewednesse 
by  shrewednesse.  And  it  ye  say  that  right  axeth  a  man 
to  deiende  violence  by  violence,  and  fighting  by  fighting: 
certes  ye  say  soth,  whan  the  defence  is  don  withouten  in- 
tervalle,  or  withouten  tarying  or  delay,  for  to  defende  him, 
and  not  for  to  venge.  And  it  behoveth,  that  a  man  putte 
swiche  attemperaunce  in  his  defence,  that  men  have  no 
cause  ne  mater  to  repreve  him,  that  defendeth  him,  of  out- 
rage and  excesse,  for  elles  were  it  againe  reson.  Parde  ye 
knowen  wel,  that  ye  maken  no  defence  as  now,  for  to  de- 
fende you,  but  for  to  venge  you  :  and  so  sheweth  it,  that  ye 
han  no  will  to  do  youre  dede  attemprely  ;  and  therfore  me 
thinketh  that  patience  is  good.  For  Salomon  sayth,  that 
he  that  is  not  patient,  shal  have  gret  harme. 

Certes,  quod  Melibee,  I  graunte  you,  that  whan  a  man 
is  impatient  and  wrothe  of  that  that  toucheth  him  not,  and 
that  apperteineth  not  unto  him,  though  it  harme  him  it  is 
no  wonder.  For  the  lawe  saith,  that  he  is  coupable  that 
entremeteth  or  medleth  with  swiche  thing,  as  apper- 
teineth not  unto  him.  And  Salomon  saith,  that  he  that 
entremeteth  of  the  noise  or  strif  of  another  man,  is  like 
to  him  that  taketh  a  straunge  hound  by  the  eres :  for  right 
as  he  that  taketh  a  straunge  hound  by  the  eres  is  otherwhile 
bitten  with  the  hound,  right  in  the  same  wise,  it  is  reson 
that  he  have  harme,  that  by  his  impatience  medleth  him 
of  the  noise  of  another  man,  wheras  it  apperteineth  not 
unto  him.  But  ye  knowe  wel,  that  this  dede,  that  is  to 
sayn,  my  greef  and  my  disese,  toucheth  me  right  nigh.  And 
therfore  though  I  be  wroth  and  impatient,  it  is  no  mer- 
vaille  :  and  (saving  your  grace)  I  cannot  see  that  it  might 
gretly  harme  me,  though  I  took  vengeaunce,  for  I  am 
richer  and  more  mighty  than  min  enemies  ben :  and  wel 
knowe  ye,  that  by  money  and  by  having  gret  possessions, 
ben  alle  thinges  of  this  world  governed.  And  Salomon 
sayth,  that  alle  thinges  obeye  to  money. 

Whan  Prudence  had  herd  hire  husbond  avaunte  him  of 
his  richesse  and  of  his  money,  dispreising  the  power  of  his 
adversaries,  she  spake  and  sayd  in  this  wise :  Certes,  dere 


404  THE   CANTERBURY   TALES. 

Sire,  I  graunte  you  that  ye  ben  riche  and  mighty,  and  that 
richesses  ben  good  to  hem  that  han  wel  ygeten  hem,  and 
that  wel  conne  usen  hem.  For  right  as  the  body  of  a  man 
may  not  liven  withouten  soul,  no  more  may  it  liven  with- 
outen  temporel  goodes,  and  by  richesses  may  a  man  gete 
him  grete  frendes.  And  therfore  sayth  Pamphilus  :  If  a 
netherdes1  doughter  (he  sayth)  be  riche,  she  may  chese  of 
a  thousand  men,  which  she  wol  take  to  hire  husbond  :  for 
of  a  thousand  men  on  wol  not  forsaken  hire  ne  refusen  hire. 
And  this  Pamphilus  saith  also  :  If  thou  be  right  happy, 
that  is  to  sayn,  if  thou  be  right  riche,  thou  shalt  find  a  gret 
nombre  of  felawes  and  frendes ;  and  if  thy  fortune  chaunge, 
that  thou  wexe  poure,  farewel  frendshipe  and  felawshipe, 
for  thou  shalt  be  al  allone  withouten  any  compaignie,  but 
if  it  be  the  compaignie  of  poure  folk.  And  yet  sayth  this 
Pamphilus  moreover,  that  they  that  ben  bond  and  thralle 
of  linage,  shuln  be  made  worthy  and  noble  by  richesses. 
And  right  so  as  by  richesses  ther  comen  many  goodes, 
right  so  by  poverte  come  ther  many  harmes  and  eviles :  for 
gret  poverte  constreineth  a  man  to  do  many  eviles.  And 
therfore  clepeth  Cassiodore  poverte  the  moder  of  ruine, 
that  is  to  sayn,  the  moder  of  overthrowing  or  falling  doun. 
And  therfore  sayth  Piers  Alphonse :  on  of  the  gretest  adver- 
sitees  of  this  world,  is  whan  a  free  man  by  kinde,  or  of 
birthe,  is  constreined  by  poverte  to  eten  the  almesse  of  his 
enemie.  And  the  same  sayth  Innocent  in  on  of  his  bookes : 
he  sayth,  that  sorweful  and  mishappy  is  the  condition  of  a 
poure  begger,  for  if  he  axe  not  his  mete,  he  dieth  for  hunger, 
and  if  he  axe,  he  dieth  for  shame  :  and  algates  necessitee 
constreineth  him  to  axe.  And  therfore  sayth  Salomon,  that 
better  it  is  to  die,  than  for  to  have  swiche  poverte.  And 
as  the  same  Salomon  sayth  :  Better  it  is  to  die  of  bitter 
deth,  than  for  to  liven  in  swiche  wise.  By  thise  resons 
that  I  have  said  unto  you,  and  by  many  other  resons 
that  I  coude  saye,  I  graunte  you  that  richesses  ben  good  to 
hem  that  wel  geten  hem,  and  to  hem  that  wel  usen  tho 
richesses :  and  therfore  wol  I  shewe  you  how  ye  shuln  be- 
have you  in  gadering  of  youre  richesses,  and  in  what  manere 
ye  shuln  usen  hem. 

First,  ye  shuln  geten  hem  withouten  gret  desir,  by  good 
leiser,  sokingly,2  and  not  over  hastifly,  for  a  man  that  is  to 
desiring  to  gete  richesses,  abandoneth  him  first  to  thefte 
and  to  alle  other  eviles.  And  therfore  sayth  Salomon:  He 
that  hasteth  him  to  besily  to  wexe  riche,  he  shal  be  non 

•  Neatherd'8.  *  Gently. 


THE   TALE   OF   MELIBEUS.  405 

innocent.  He  sayth  also,  that  the  richesae  that  hastily 
cometh  to  a  man,  sone  and  lightly  goeth  and  passe  th  from 
a  man,  but  that  richesse  that  cometh  litel  and  litel,  wexeth 
alway  and  multiplieth.  And,  Sire,  ye  shulen  get  richesses 
by  youre  wit  and  by  youre  travaille,  unto  youre  profite, 
and  that  withouten  wrong  or  harrne  doing  to  any  other 
persone.  For  the  lawe  sayth :  Ther  maketh  no  man 
himself  riche,  if  he  do  harme  to  another  wight ;  this  ia  to 
say,  that  nature  defendeth  and  forbedeth  by  right,  that  no 
man  make  himself  riche,  unto  the  harme  of  another  persone. 
And  Tullius  sayth,  that  no  sorwe,  ne  no  drede  of  deth,  ne 
nothing  that  may  falle  unto  a  man,  is  so  muchel  ageins 
nature,  as  a  man  to  encrese  his  owen  profite,  to  harme  of 
another  man.  And  though  the  grete  men  and  the  mighty 
men  geten  richesses  more  lightly  than  thou,  yet  shalt  thou 
not  ben  idel  ne  slowe  to  do  thy  profite,  for  thou  shalt  in 
alle  wise  flee  idelnesse.  For  Salomon  sayth,  that  idelnesse 
techeth  a  man  to  do  many  eviles.  And  the  same  Salomon 
sayth,  that  he  that  travailleth  and  besieth  him  to  tillen 
his  lond,  shal  ete  bred:  but  he  that  is  idel,  and  caste th 
him  to  no  besinesse  ne  occupation,  shal  falle  into  poverte, 
and  die  for  hunger.  And  he  that  is  idel  and  slow,  can 
never  find  covenable  time  for  to  do  his  profite.  For  ther 
is  a  versifiour  sayth,  that  the  idel  man  excuseth  him  in 
Winter,  because  of  the  grete  cold,  and  in  Summer  by 
encheson  of  the  hete.  For  thise  causes,  sayth  Caton, 
waketh,1  and  enclineth  you  not  over  muchel  to  slepe,  for 
over  muchel  reste  norisheth  and  causeth  many  vices. 
And  therfore  sayth  Seint  Jerome  ;  Doeth  som  good  dedes, 
that  the  devil  which  is  oure  enemie,  ne  finde  you  not 
unoccupied,  for  the  devil  ne  taketh  not  lightly  unto  his 
werking  swiche  as  he  findeth  occupied  in  goode  werkes. 

Than  thus  in  geting  richesses  ye  musten  flee  idelnesse. 
And  afterward  ye  shuln  usen  the  richesses,  which  ye  han 
geten  by  youre  wit  and  by  youre  travaille,  in  swiche 
manere,  that  men  holde  you  not  to  scarce  ne  to  sparing, 
ne  fool-large, that  is  to  say,  over  large  a  spender:  for  right 
as  men  blamen  an  avaricious  man,  because  of  his  scarcitee 
and  chincherie,1  in  the  same  wise  is  he  to  blame,  that 
spendeth  over  largely.    And  therfore  saith  Caton :  Use 

1  I  can  find  nothing  nearer  to  this  in  Cato,  than  the  maxim,  L.  iii. 
Dlst.  7.  Segnitiem  fugito. — For  the  quotations  from  the  game  author  in 
the  following  page,  see  L.  iv.  Dist.  17,  and  L.  iii.  Dist.  23. — Tyrwhilt. 
8  Over-sparingness,  niggardness. 


406  THE  CANTERBUKY  TALES. 

(sayth  he)  the  richesses  that  thou  hast  ygeten  in  swit/La 
manere,  that  men  have  no  matere  ne  cause  to  calle  thee 
nother  wretche  ne  chinche:  for  it  is  a  gret  shame  to  a 
man  to  have  a  poure  herte  and  a  riche  purse.  He  sayth 
also :  the  goodes  that  thou  hast  ygeten,  use  hem  by  mesure, 
that  is  to  sayn,  spende  mesurably;  for  they  that  folily 
wasten  and  dispenden  the  goodes  that  they  han,  whan 
they  han  no  more  propre  of  hir  owen,  than  they  shapen 
hem  to  take  the  goodes  of  another  man.  I  say  than  that 
ye  shuln  flee  avarice,  using  your  richesses  in  swiche 
manere,  than  men  sayn  not  that  your  richesses  ben  yberied, 
but  that  ye  have  hem  in  youre  might,  and  in  youre 
welding.1  For  a  wise  man  repreveth  the  avaricious  man, 
and  sayth  thus  in  two  vers.  Wherto  and  why  berieth  a 
man'  his  goodes  by  his  gret  avarice,  and  knoweth  wel,  that 
nedes  must  he  die,  for  deth  is  the  end  of  every  man,  as  in 
this  present  lif  ?  and  for  what  cause  or  encheson  joineth 
he  him,  or  knitteth  he  him  so  fast  unto  his  goodes,  that 
alle  his  wittes  mown  not  disseveren  him,  or  departen  him 
from  his  goodes,  and  knoweth  wel,  or  oughte  to  knowe, 
that  whan  he  is  ded,  he  shal  nothing  here  with  him  out 
of  this  world  ?  And  therfore  sayth  Seint  Augustine,  that 
the  avaricious  man  is  likened  unto  helle,  that  the  more  it 
swalweth,  the  more  desir  it  hath  to  swalwe  and  devoure. 
And  as  wel  as  ye  wolde  eschue  to  be  called  an  avaricious 
man  or  chinche,  as  wel  shulde  ye  kepe  you  and  governe 
you  in  swiche  a  wise,  that  men  calle  you  not  fool-large. 
Therfore  sayth  Tullius :  The  goodes  of  thin  hous  ne  shulde 
not  ben  hid  ne  kept  so  close,  but  that  they  might  ben 
opened  by  pitee  and  debonairetee ;  that  is  to  sayn,  to 
yeve  hem  part  that  han  gret  nede ;  ne  thy  goodes  shulden 
not  ben  so  open,  to  be  every  mannes  goodes.  Afterward, 
in  geting  of  your  richesses,  and  in  using  of  hem,  ye  shuln 
alway  have  three  thinges  in  youre  herte,  that  is  to  say, 
oure  Lord  God,  conscience,  and  good  name.  First,  ye  shuln 
have  God  in  youre  herte,  and  for  no  richesse  ye  shuln  do 
no  thing,  which  may  in  any  manere  displese  God  that  is 
your  creatour  and  maker.  For  after  the  word  of  Salomon, 
it  is  better  to  have  a  litel  good  with  love  of  God,  than  to 
have  muchel  good,  and  lese  the  love  of  his  Lord  God. 
And  the  Prophete  sayth,  That  better  it  is  to  ben  a  good 
man,  and  have  litel  good  and  tresor,  than  to  be  holden  a 

1  Usage. 


TIIE   TALE   OP   MELIBEUa  407 

shrewe,  and  have  grete  richesses.  And  yet  I  say  torther- 
more,  that  ye  shulden  alway  do  youre  besinesse  to  gete 
you  richesses,  so  that  ye  gete  hem  with  good  conscience. 
And  the  Apostle  sayth,  that  ther  n'is  thing  in  this  world 
of  which  we  shulden  have  so  gret  joye,  as  whan  oure  con- 
science bereth  us  good  witnesse.  And  the  wise  man  sayth : 
The  substaunce  of  a  man  is  tul  good,  whan  sinne  is  not 
in  mannes  conscience.  Afterward,  in  geting  of  youre 
richesses,  and  in  using  of  hem,  ye  must  have,  gret  besinesse 
and  gret  diligence,  that  youre  good  name  be  alway  kept 
and  conserved.  For  Salomon  sayth,  that  beter  it  is,  and 
more  it  availeth  a  man  to  have  a  good  name,  than  for  to 
have  grete  richesses:  and  therfore  he  sayth  in  another 
place:  Do  grete  diligence  (saith  Salomon)  in  keping  of 
thy  frendes,  and  of  thy  good  name,  ior  it  shal  lenger  abide 
with  thee,  than  any  tresor,  be  it  never  so  precious.  And 
certes,  he  shulde  not  be  called  a  Gentilman,  that  after  God 
and  good  conscience,  alle  thinges  left,  ne  doth  his  diligence 
and  besinesse,  to  kepen  his  good  name.  And  Cassiodore 
sayth,  that  it  is  a  signe  oi  a  gentil  herte,  whan  a  man  loveth 
and  desireth  to  have  a  good  name.  And  therfore  sayth 
Seint  Augustine,  that  ther  ben  two  thinges  that  am  right 
necessarie  and  nedeful ;  and  that  is  good  conscience,  and 
good  los?  that  is  to  sayn,  good  conscience  to  thin  owen 
persone  inward,  and  good  los  tor  thy  neighebour  outward. 
And  he  that  trosteth  him  so  muchel  in  his  good  conscience, 
that  he  despiseth  and  setteth  at  nought  his  good  name  or 
los,  and  recketh  not  though  he  kepe  not  his  good  name, 
n'is  but  a  cruel  cherl. 

Sire,  now  have  I  shewed  you  how  ye  shulden  do  in 
geting  richesses,  and  how  ye  shuln  usen  hem :  and  I  see 
wel  that  for  the  trust  that  ye  han  in  youre  richesses,  ye 
wiln  meve  werre  and  bataille.  I  conseille  you  that  ye 
beginne  no  bataille  ne  werre,  in  trust  of  youre  richesses, 
for  they  ne  sufficen  not  werres  to  mainteine.  And  ther- 
fore sayth  a  Philosophre :  That  man  that  desireth  and  wol 
algates  han  werre,  shal  never  have  suffisaunce :  for  the 
richer  that  he  is,  the  greter  dispences  must  he  make,  if  he 
wol  have  worship  and  victorie.  And  Salomon  saith,  that 
the  greter  richesses  that  a  man  hath,  the  mo  dispendours 
he  hath.  And,  dere  Sire,  al  be  it  so,  that  ibr  your 
richesses  ye  moun  have  muchel  folk,  yet  behoveth  it  not, 
ne  it  is  not  good  to  beginne  werre,  wheras  ye  moun  in 
other  manere  have  pees,  unto  youre  worship  and  profite: 


408  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

for  the  victorie  of  batailles  that  ben  in  this  world,  lith  not 
in  gret  nombre  or  multitude  of  peple,  ne  in  the  vertue  of 
man,  but  it  lith  in  the  will  and  in  the  hond  of  oure  Lord 
God  almighty.  And  therfore  Judas  Machabeua,  which 
was  Goddes  knight,  whan  he  shulde  fighte  again  his  adver- 
sarie,  that  hadde  a  greter  nombre  and  a  greter  multitude 
of  folk,  and  strenger  than  was  the  peple  of  this  Machabee, 
yet  he  recomforted  his  litel  compaignie,  and  sayde  right 
in  this  wise :  Al  so  lightly'  (sayde  he)  may  our  Lord  God 
almighty  yeve  victorie  to  a  fewe  folk,  as  to  many  folk ;  for 
the  victorie  of  a  bataille  cometh  not  by  the  gret  nombre 
of  peple,  but  it  cometh  from  oure  Lord  God  of  heven. 
And,  dere  Sire,  for  as  muchel  as  ther  is  no  man  certaine, 
if  it  be  worthy  that  God  yeve  him  victorie  or  not,  after 
that  Salomon  sayth,  therfore  every  man  shulde  gretly 
drede  werres  to  beginne:  and  because  that  in  batailles 
fallen  many  perils,  and  it  happeth  other  while,  that  as 
sone  is  the  gret  man  slain,  as  the  litel  man ;  and,  as  it  is 
ywritten  in  the  second  book  of  Kinges,  the  dedes  of 
batailles  ben  aventurous,  and  nothing  certain,  for  as  lightly 
is  on  hurt  with  a  spere  as  another ;  and  for  ther  is  gret 
peril  in  werre;  therfore  shulde  a  man  flee  and  eschue 
werre  in  as  muchel  as  a  man  may  goodly.  For  Salomon 
sayth :  He  that  loveth  peril,  shal  falle  in  peril. 

After  that  dame  Prudence  had  spoken  in  this  manere, 
Melibee  answerd  and  saide :  I  see  wel,  dame  Prudence, 
that  by  youre  faire  wordes  and  by  youre  resons,  that  ye 
han  shewed  me,  that  the  werre  liketh  you  nothing:  but 
I  have  not  yet  herd  your  conseil,  how  I  shal  do  in  this 
nede. 

Certes,  quod  she,  I  conseille  you  that  ye  accorde  with 
youre  adversaries,  and  that  ye  have  pees  with  hem.  For 
Seint  James  sayth  in  his  Epistle,  that  by  concorde  and  pees, 
the  smale  richesses  wexen  grete,  and  by  debat  and  discorde 
grete  richesses  fallen  doun.  And  ye  knowen  wel,  that  on 
of  the  gretest  and  moste  soveraine  thing,  that  is  in  this 
world,  is  unitee  and  pees.  And  therfore  sayde  oure  Lord 
Jesu  Crist  to  his  Apostles  in  this  wise :  Wel  happy  and 
blessed  ben  they  that  loven  and  purchasen  pees,  for  they 
ben  called  the  children  of  God.  A,  quod  Melibee,  now  see 
I  wel,  that  ye  loven  not  min  honour,  ne  my  worshipe.  Ye 
knowen  wel  that  min  adversaries  han  begonne  this  debat 

1  As  easily. 


THE  TALE   OP   MELIBEUS.  409 

and  brige1  by  hir  outrage,  and  ye  see  wel,  that  they  ne 
requeren  ne  prayen  me  not  of  pees,  ne  they  axen  not  to  be 
reconciled ;  wol  ye  than  that  I  go  and  meke  me,  and  obeye 
me  to  hem,  and  crie  hem  mercie?  Forsoth  that  were  not 
my  worshipe :  for  right  as  men  sayn,  that  overgret  hom- 
linesse  engendreth  dispreising,  so  fareth  it  by  to  gret 
humilitee  or  mekenesse. 

Than  began  dame  Prudence  to  make  semblaunt  of  wrathe, 
and  sayde:  Certes,  Sire,  (sauf  your  grace)  I  love  youre 
honour  and  youre  profite,as  I  do  min  owen,  and  ever  have 
don ;  ye,  ne  non  other  seyn  never  the  contrary :  and  if  I 
had  sayde,  that  ye  shulde  han  purchased  the  pees  and  the 
reconciliation,  I  ne  hadde  not  muchel  mistake  me,  ne  sayde 
amis.  For  the  Wise  man  sayth :  The  dissention  beginneth 
by  another  man,  and  the  reconciling  beginneth  by  thyself. 
And  the  Prophete  saith :  Flee  shrewednesse  and  do  good- 
nesse ;  seke  pees  and  folwe  it,  in  as  muchel  as  in  thee  is. 
Yet  say  I  not,  that  ye  shuln  rather  pursue  to  youre  adver- 
saries for  pees,  than  they  shuln  to  you :  for  I  know  wel 
that  ye  ben  so  hard-herted,  that  ye  wol  do  nothing  for  me ; 
and  Salomon  sayth :  he  that  hath  over  hard  an  herte,  atte 
laste  he  slial  mishappe  and  mis  tide. 

"Whan  Melibee  had  herd  dame  Prudence  make  semblaunt 
of  wrath,  he  sayde  in  this  wise.  Dame,  I  pray  you  that  ye 
be  not  displesed  of  thinges  that  I  say,  for  I  knowe  wel  that 
I  am  angry  and  wroth,  and  that  is  no  wonder ;  and  they 
that  ben  wroth,  woten  not  wel  what  they  don,  ne  what 
they  sayn.  Therfore  the  Prophete  sayth,  that  troubled 
eyen  han  no  clere  sighte.  But  sayth  and  conseilleth  me 
as  you  liketh,  for  I  am  redy  to  do  right  as  ye  wol  desire. 
And  if  ye  repreve  me  of  my  folie,  I  am  the  more  holden 
to  love  you  and  to  preise  you.  For  Salomon  saith,  that  he 
that  repreveth  him  that  doth  folie,  he  shal  find  greter 
grace,  than  he  that  deceiveth  him  by  swete  wordes. 

Than  sayde  Dame  Prudence ;  I  make  no  semblaunt  of 
wrath  ne  of  anger,  but  for  youre  grete  profite.  For  Salomon 
saith:  he  is  more  worth,  that  repreveth  or  chideth  a  fool 
for  his  folie,  shewing  him  semblaunt  of  wrath,  than  he  that 
supporteth  him  and  preiseth  him  in  his  misdoing,  and 
laugheth  at  his  folie.  And  this  same  Salomon  saith  after- 
ward, that  by  the  sorweful  visage  of  a  man,  that  is  to  sayn, 
by  the  sory  and  hevy  countenance  of  a  man,  the  fool  cor- 
recteth  and  amendeth  himself. 

'Contention. 
35 


410  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Than  said  Melibee :  I  shall  not  conne  answere  unto  so 
many  faire  resons  as  ye  putten  to  me  and  shewen .  sayth 
shortly  youre  will  and  youre  conseil.  and  I  am  al  redy  to 
performe  and  fulfille  it. 

Than  Dame  Prudence  discovered  all  hire  will  unto  him 
and  saide :  I  conseille  you,  quod  she,  above  alle  thinges  that 
ye  make  pees  betwene  God  and  you,  and  be  reconciled  unto 
him  and  to  his  grace,  lor  as  I  have  sayde  you  herebeforen, 
God  hath  suffered  you  to  have  this  tribulation  and  disese 
for  youre  sinnes:  and  if  ye  do  as  I  say  you,  God  wol  sende 
youre  adversaries  unto  you,  and  make  hem  falle  at  youre 
feet,  redy  to  do  youre  will  and  youre  commaundements. 
For  Salomon  sayth ;  whan  the  condition  of  man  is  plesaunt 
and  liking  to  God,  he  chaungeth  the  hertes  of  the  mannes 
adversaries,  and  constreineth  hem  to  besechen  him  of  pees 
and  of  grace.  And  I  pray  you  let  me  speke  with  your 
adversaries  in  privee  place,  for  they  shuln  not  knowe  that 
it  be  of  youre  will  or  youre  assent;  and  than,  whan  I 
knowe  hir  will  and  hir  entente,  I  may  conseille  you  the 
more  seurely. 

Dame,  quod  Melibeus,  doth  youre  will  and  youre  liking, 
for  I  putte  me  holly  in  youre  disposition  and  ordinaunce. 

Than  Dame  Prudence,  when  she  sey  the  good  will  of 
hire  husbond,  delibered  unto  hire,  and  toke  avis  in  hire 
self,  thinking  how  she  might  bring  this  nede  unto  goode 
ende.  And  whan  she  sey  hire  time,  she  sent  for  thise  ad- 
versaries to  come  unto  hire  in  to  a  privee  place,  and  shewed 
wisely  unto  hem  the  grete  goodes  that  coinen  of  pees,  and 
the  grete  harmes  and  perils  that  ben  in  werre ;  and  saide 
to  hem,  in  a  goodly  manere,  how  that  hem  oughte  have 
gret  repentaunce  of  the  injuries  and  wronges,  that  they 
hadden  don  to  Melibeus  hire  lord,  and  unto  hire  and  to 
hire  doughter.' 

And  whan  they  herden  the  goodly  wordes  of  Dame  Pru- 
dence, they  weren  so  surprised  and  ravished,  and  hadden 
so  gret  joye  of  hire,  that  wonder  was  to  telle.  A,  lady, 
quod  they,  ye  have  shewed  unto  us  the  blessing  of  swete- 
nesse,  after  the  saying  of  David  the  Prophete ;  for  the  re- 
conciling, which  we  be  not  worthy  to  have  in  no  manere, 
but  we  oughten  requeren  it  with  grete  contrition  and 
humilitee,  ye  of  youre  grete  goodnesse  have  presented  unto 
us.  Now  see  we  wel,  that  the  science  and  conning  of 
Salomon  is  ful  trewe;  for  he  saith,  that  swete  wordes 
multiplien  and  encresen  frendes,  and  maken  shrewes  to  be 
debonaire  and  meke. 


THE  TALE  OP  MELIBEUS.  411 

Certes,  quod  they,  we  putten  oure  dede,  and  all  oure 
matere  and  cause,  al  holly  in  youre  good  will,  and  ben 
redy  to  obeye  unto  the  speche  and  commaundement  of  my 
lord  Melibeus.  And  therfore,  dere  and  benigne  lady,  we 
praye  you  and  beseche  you  as  mekely  as  we  conne  and 
moun,  that  it  like  unto  youre  grete  goodnesse  to  fulfille 
in  dede  youre  goodly  wordes.  For  we  consideren  and 
knowelechen,  that  we  han  offended  and  greved  my  lord 
Melibeus  out  of  mesure,  so  fer  forth,  that  we  ben  not  of 
power  to  maken  him  amcndes ;  and  therfore  we  oblige  and 
binde  us  and  oure  frendes,  for  to  do  all  his  will  and  his 
commaundements :  but  peraventure  he  hath  swiche 
hevinesse  and  swiche  wrath  to  us  ward,  because  of  oure 
offence,  that  he  wol  enjoynen  us  swiche  a  peine,  as  we 
moun  not  here  ne  susteine  ;  and  therfore,  noble  ladie,  we 
beseche  to  youre  womanly  pittee  to  take  swiche  avisement 
in  this  nede,  that  we,  ne  oure  frendes,  ben  not  disherited 
and  destroied,  thurgh  oure  folie. 

Certes,  quod  Prudence,  it  is  an  hard  thing  and  right 
perilous,  that  a  man  putte  him  all  outrely  in  the  arbitra- 
tion and  jugement,  and  in  the  might  and  power  of  his 
enemie;  for  Salomon  sayth:  leveth  me,  and  yeveth  cre- 
dence to  that  that  I  shall  say:  to  thy  sone,  to  thy  wif,  to 
thy  frend,  ne  to  thy  brother,  ne  yeve  thou  never  might  ne 
maistrie  over  thy  body,  while  thou  livest.  Now,  sith  he 
defendeth  that  a  man  shulde  not  yeve  to  his  brother,  ne  to 
his  frend,  the  might  of  his  body,  by  a  strenger  reson  he 
defendeth  and  forbedeth  a  man  to  yeve  himself  to  his  enemy. 
And  natheles,  I  conseille  you  that  ye  mistruste  not  my 
lord:  for  I  wot  wel  and  know  veraily,that  he  isdebonaire 
and  meke,  large,  curteis,  and  nothing  desirous  ne  coveitous 
of  good  ne  richesse :  for  ther  is  nothing  in  this  world  that 
he  desireth,  save  only  worshipe  and  honour.  Forthermore 
I  know  wel,  and  am  right  sure,  that  he  shal  nothing  do  in 
this  nede  withouten  my  conseil ;  and  I  shal  so  werken  in 
this  cas,  that  by  the  grace  of  oure  Lord  God  ye  shuln  be 
reconciled  unto  us. 

Than  saiden  they  with  o  vois;  worshipful  lady,  we 
putten  us  and  oure  goodes  al  fully  in  youre  will  and  dis- 
position, and  ben  redy  to  come,  what  day  that  it  like  unto 
youre  noblesse  to  limite  us  or  assigne  us,  for  to  make  oure 
obligation  and  bond,  as  strong  as  it  liketh  unto  youre 
goodnesse,  that  we  moun  fulfille  the  will  of  you  and  of  my 
lord  Melibee. 

WhanPame  Prudence  had  herd  the  answer  of  thise  men 


412  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

she  bad  hem  go  agein  prively,  and  she  retourned  to  hire 
lord  Melibee,  and  told  him  how  she  fond  his  adversaries  ful 
repentaunt,  knowleching  ful  lowly  hir  sinnes  and  trespas, 
and  how  they  weren  redy  to  suffren  all  peine,  requering 
and  preying  him  of  mercy  and  pitee. 

Than  saide  Melibee ;  he  is  wel  worthy  to  have  pardon 
and  foryevenesse  of  his  sinne,  that  excuseth  not  his  sinne, 
but  knowlecheth,  and  repenteth  him,  axing  indulgence. 
For  Senek  saith ;  ther  is  the  remission  and  foryevenesse, 
wher  as  the  confession  is ;  for  confession  is  neighebour  to 
innocence.  And  therefore  I  assente  and  conferme  me  to 
have  pees,  but  it  is  good  that  we  do  nought  withouten  the 
assent  and  will  of  oure  frendes. 

Than  was  Prudence  right  glad  and  joyeful,  and  saide ; 
certes,  sire,  ye  han  well  and  goodly  answered :  for  right  as 
by  the  conseil,  assent,  and  helpe  of  your  frendes,  ye  han  be 
stired  to  venge  you  and  make  werre,  right  so  withouten 
hir  conseil  shul  ye  not  accord  you,  ne  have  pees  with 
youre  adversaries.  For  the  lawe  saith :  ther  is  nothing  so 
good  by  way  of  kinde,  as  a  thing  to  be  unbounde  by  him 
that  it  was  ybounde. 

And  than  Dame  Prudence,  withouten  delay  or  tarying, 
sent  anon  hire  messageres  for  hir  kin  and  for  hir  olde 
frendes,  which  that  were  trewe  and  wise:  and  told  hem  by 
ordre,  in  the  presence  of  Melibee,  all  the  matere,  as  it  is 
above  expressed  and  declared ;  and  preied  hem  that  they 
wold  yeve  hir  avis  and  conseil,  what  were  best  to  do  in 
this  nede.  And  whan  Melibeus  frendes  hadden  taken  hir 
avis  and  deliberation  of  the  foresaid  matere,  and  hadden 
examined  it  by  gret  besinesse  and  gret  diligence,  they 
yaven  ful  conseil  for  to  have  pees  and  reste,  and  that 
Melibee  shulde  receive  with  good  herte  his  adversaries  to 
foryevenesse  and  mercy. 

And  whan  dame  Prudence  had  herd  the  assent  of  hire 
lord  Melibee,  and  the  conseil  of  his  frendes,  accord  with 
hire  will  and  hire  entention,  she  was  wonder  glad  in  hire 
herte,  and  sayde:  ther  is  an  olde  Proverbe,  quod  she, 
sayth,  that  the  goodnesse  that  thou  maist  do  this  day,  do 
it,  and  abide  not,  ne  delay  it  not  til  to  morwe :  and  ther- 
fore  I  conseille,  that  ye  sende  youre  messageres,  swiche  as 
ben  discrete  and  wise,  unto  youre  adversaries,  telling  hem 
on  youre  behalf,  that  if  they  wol  trete  of  pees  and  of 
accord,  that  they  shape  hem,  withouten  delay  or  tarying, 
to  come  unto  us.    Which  thing  parfourmed  was  indede. 


THE  TALE  OP  MELIBEUS.  413 

And  -whan  thise  trespasours  and  repenting  folk  of  hir 
folies,  that  is  to  sayn,  the  adversaries  of  Melibee,  hadden 
herd  what  thise  messageres  sayden  unto  hem,  they  weren 
right  glade  and  joyeful,  and  answerden  ful  mekely  and 
benignely,  yelding  graces  and  thankinges  to  hir  lord 
Melibee,  and  to  all  his  conipagnie:  and  shopen  hem 
withouten  delay  to  go  with  the  messageres,  and  obeye  to 
the  comnjaundement  of  hir  lord  Melibee. 

And  right  anon  they  token  hir  way  to  the  court  of 
Melibee,  and  token  with  hem  som  of  hir  trewe  frendes,  to 
make  feith  for  hem,  and  for  to  ben  hir  borwes.1  And  whan 
they  were  comen  to  the  presence  of  Melibee,  he  saide  hem 
thise  wordes:  it  stant  thus,  quod  Melibee,  and  soth  it  is, 
that  ye  causeles,  and  withouten  skill  and  reson,  han  don 
grete  injuries  and  wronges  to  me,  and  to  my  wif  Prudence, 
and  to  my  doughter  also,  for  ye  han  entred  into  myn  houa 
by  violence,  and  have  don  swiche  outrage,  that  alle  men 
knowen  wel  that  ye  han  deserved  the  deth :  and  therfore 
wol  I  know  and  wete  of  you,  whether  ye  wol  putte  the 
punishing  and  chastising,  and  the  vengeaunce  of  this  out- 
rage, in  the  will  of  me  and  of  my  wif,  or  ye  wol  not. 

Than  the  wisest  of  hem  three  answered  for  hem  alle,  and 
saide.  Sire,  quod  he,  we  knowen  wel,  that  we  ben  un- 
worthy to  come  to  the  court  of  so  gret  a  lord  and  so  worthy 
as  ye  ben,  for  we  han  so  gretly  mistaken  us,  and  han 
offended  and  agilte  in  swiche  wise  agein  youre  high  lord- 
shipe,  that  trewely  we  han  deserved  the  deth ;  but  yet  for 
the  grete  goodnesse  and  debonairetee,  that  all  the  world 
witnesseth  of  youre  persone,  we  submitten  us  to  the  ex- 
cellence and  benignitee  of  youre  gracious  lordshipe,  and 
ben  redy  to  obeye  to  alle  youre  comandements,  besech- 
ing  you,  that  of  youre  merciable  pitee  ye  wol  considere 
oure  grete  repentance  and  lowe  submission,  and  graunte 
us  foryevenesse  of  oure  outragious  trespas  and  offence :  for 
wel  we  knowen,  that  youre  liberal  grace  and  mercie 
stretchen  hem  forther  into  goodnesse,  than  don  oure 
outragious  giltes  and  trespas  into  wickednesse ;  al  be  it 
that  cursedly  and  dampnably  we  han  agilte  again  youre 
highe  lordshipe. 

Than  Melibee  toke  hem  up  fro  the  ground  ful  benignely, 
and  received  hir  obligations,  and  hir  bondes,  by  hir  othes 
upon  hir  plegges  and  borwes,  and  assigned  hem  a  certain 

1  Pledged. 
35* 


414  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

day  to  retourne  unto  his  court  for  to  receive  and  accept 
sentence  and  iugement,  that  Melibee  wolde  commande  to 
be  don  on  hem,  by  the  causes  aforesaid  ;  which  thinges  or- 
deined,  every  man  retourned  to  his  hous. 

And  whan  that  Dame  Prudence  saw  hire  time,  she  freined1 
and  axed  hire  lord  Melibee,  what  vengeance  he  thoughte  to 
taken  of  his  adversaries. 

To  which  Melibee  answerd,  and  saide :  certes,  quod  he,  I 
thinke  and  purpose  me  fully  to  disherite  hem  of  all  that 
ever  they  han,  and  for  to  putte  hem  in  exile  for  ever. 

Certes,  quod  Dame  Prudence,  this  were  a  cruel  sentence, 
and  muchel  agein  reson.  For  ye  ben  riche  ynough,  and 
han  no  nede  of  other  mennes  good ;  and  ye  might  lightly 
in  this  wise  gete  you  a  coveitous  name,  which  is  a  vicious 
thing,  and  oughte  to  ben  eschewed  of  every  good  man :  for 
after  the  sawe  of  the  Apostle,  coveitise  is  rote  of  alle  harmes. 
And  therfore  it  were  better  for  you  to  lese  muchel  good  of 
your  owen,  than  for  to  take  of  hir  good  in  this  manere. 
For  better  it  is  to  lese  good  with  worship,  than  to  winne 
good  with  vilanie  and  shame.  And  every  man  oughte  to 
do  his  diligence  and  his  besinesse,  to  gete  him  a  good  name. 
And  yet  snal  he  not  only  besie  him  in  keping  his  good 
name,  but  he  shal  also  enforcen  him  alway  to  do  som 
thing,  by  which  he  may  renovelle  his  good  name  :  for  it  is 
written,  that  the  olde  good  los,  or  good  name,  of  a  man  is 
sone  gon  and  passed,  whan  it  is  not  newed.  And  as 
touching  that  ye  sayn,  that  ye  wol  exile  your  adversaries, 
that  thinketh  me  muchel  agein  reson,  and  out  of  mesure, 
considered  the  power  that  they  han  yeven  you  upon  hem- 
self.  And  it  is  written,  that  he  is  worthy  to  lese  his  privi- 
lege, that  misuseth  the  might  and  the  power  that  is  yeven 
him.  And  I  sette  cas,  ye  might  enjoine  hem  that  peine  by 
right  and  by  lawe,  (which  I  trowe  ye  mowe  not  do)  I  say, 
ye  might  not  putte  it  to  execution  peraventure,  and  than 
it  were  like  to  retourne  to  the  werre,  as  it  was  beforn. 
And  therfore  if  ye  wol  that  men  do  you  obeisaunce,  ye 
mustdeme  more  curteisly,that  is  to  sayn,  ye  must  yeve  more 
esie  sentences  and  jugements.  For  it  is  written :  he  that  most 
curteisly  commandeth,  to  him  men  most  obeyen.  And  ther- 
fore I  pray  you,  that  in  this  necessitee  and  in  this  nede  ye 
caste  you  to  overcome  youre  herte.  For  Senek  sayth,  that 
he  that  overcometh  his  herte,  overcometh  twies.    And 

1  Asked. 


THE  TALE  OF  MELIBEUS.  415 

Tullius  saith :  ther  is  nothing  so  commendable  in  a  gret 
lord,  as  whan  he  is  debonaire  and  meke,  and  appeseth  him 
lightly.  And  I  pray  you,  that  ye  wol  now  forbere  to  do 
vengeaunce  in  swiche  a  manere.that  your  good  name  may 
be  kept  and  conserved,  and  that  men  mown  have  cause 
and  matere  to  preise  you  of  pitee  and  of  mercy  ;  and  that 
ye  have  no  cause  to  repente  you  of  thing  that  ye  don.  For 
Seneke  saieth :  he  overcometh  in  an  evil  manere,  that  re- 
penteth  him  of  his  victorie.  Wherfore  I  pray  you  let 
mercy  be  in  youre  herte,  to  the  effect  and  entente,  that  God 
almighty  have  mercy  upon  you  in  his  last  jugement :  for 
Seint  James  saith  in  his  Epistle  :  jugement  withoute 
mercy  shal  he  do  to  him,  that  hath  no  mercy  of  another 
wight. 

Whan  Melibee  had  herd  the  grete  skilles  and  resons  of 
dame  Prudence,  and  hire  wise  informations  and  techinges, 
his  herte  gan  encline  to  the  will  of  his  wif,  considering  hire 
trewe  entente,  enforced  him  anon  and  assented  fully  to 
werken  after  hire  conseil,  and  thanked  God,  of  whom  pro- 
cedeth  all  goodnesse  and  all  vertue,  that  him  sent  a  wif  of 
so  gret  discretion.  And  whan  the  day  came  that  his  ad- 
versaries shulde  appere  in  his  presence,  he  spake  to  hem 
ful  goodly,  and  saide  in  this  wise.  Al  be  it  so,  that  of 
youre  pride  and  high  presumption  and  folie,  and  of  youre 
negligence  and  unconning,  ye  have  misborne  you,  and 
trespased  unto  me,  yet  for  as  muchel  as  I  see  and  behold 
youre  grete  humilitee,  and  that  ye  ben  sory  and  repentant 
of  youre  giltes,  it  constreineth  me  to  do  you  grace  and 
mercy :  wherfore  I  receive  you  into  my  grace,  and  foryeve 
you  outrely  alle  the  offences,  injuries,  and  wronges,  that  ye 
have  don  agein  me  and  mine,  to  this  effect  and  to  this  ende, 
that  God  of  his  endeles  mercie  wol  at  the  time  of  oure 
dying  foryeve  us  oure  giltes,  that  we  han  trespased  to  him 
in  this  wretched  world :  for  douteles,  if  we  be  sory  and 
repentant  of  the  sinnes  and  giltes,  which  we  han  trespased 
in  the  sight  of  oure  Lord  God,  he  is  so  free  and  so  merciable, 
that  he  wol  foryeven  us  oure  giltes,  and  bringen  us  to  the 
v  tisse  that  never  haul  enue.    Amm, 


416 
THE  MONKES  PROLOGUE 

13895-13920. 

Whan  ended  was  my  tale  of  Melibee, 
And  of  Prudence  and  hire  benignitee, 
Our  hoste  saide  :  as  I  am  faithful  man, 
And  by  the  precious  corpus  Madrian,1 
I  hadde  lever  than  a  barell  of  ale, 
That  goode  lefe  my  wif  had  herde  this  tale: 
For  she  n'is  no  thing  of  swiche  patience, 
As  was  this  Melibeus  wif  Prudence. 

By  Goddes  bones,  whan  I  bete  my  knaves, 
She  bringeth  me  the  grete  clobbed  staves, 
And  cryeth  ;  slee  the  dogges  everich  on, 
And  breke  hem  bothe  bak  and  every  bon. 

And  if  that  any  neighebour  of  mine 
Wol  not  in  chirche  to  my  wif  encline, 
Or  be  so  hardy  to  hire  to  trespace, 
Whan  she  cometh  home  she  rampeth  in  my  face> 
And  cryeth ;  false  coward,  wreke  thy  wif: 
By  corpus  Domini,  I  wol  have  thy  knif, 
And  thou  shalt  have  my  distaf,  and  go  spinne. 
Fro  day  til  night  right  thus  wol  she  beginne. 

Alas,  she  saith,  that  ever  I  was  yshape 
To  wed  a  milksop,  or  a  coward  ape, 
That  wol  ben  overladde  with  every  wight ! 
Thou  darst  not  stonden  by  thy  wives  right. 

This  is  my  lif,  but  if  that  I  wol  fight, 
And  out  at  dore  anon  I  mote  me  dight, 

The  body  of  St.  Mathurin  is  probably  the  one  meant.  See  his  story 
in  the  Golden  Legende,  Edit.  1527,  by  Winkin  de  Worde,  161,  b. 
"  Than  toke  they  the  preciout  body  and  enoynted  it  with  moche  reve- 
rence; and  when  they  had  layd  it  in  the  erth,on  the  morowe  they  came 
to  the  sepulture  and  founde  the  holy  body  above  the  erth  nygh  unto  the 
same  sepulture,  and  than  were  they  all  abasshed  and  wyst  not  what  to 
do."  It  seems,  the  knightes,  who  had  brought  him  out  of  France,  had 
promised  that,  if  he  died  on  his  journey,  he  should  be  sent  back  and 
buried  "  where  as  they  had  taken  him ;"  and  therefore  his  body  would 
not  stay  in  the  ground,  till  it  was  deposited,  according  to  promise,  in 
France,  where  it  afterwards  worked  many  miracles. — Tyrwhitt. 


13921-139GO.  THE  MONKES  TALE.  •       417 

Or  elles  I  am  lost,  but  if  that  1 
Be  like  a  wilde  leon,  fool-hardy. 

I  wote  wel  she  wol  do  me  slee  som  day 
Som  neighebour,  and  thanne  go  my  way, 
For  I  am  perilous  with  knif  in  honde, 
Al  be  it  that  I  dare  not  hire  withstonde : 
For  she  is  bigge  in  armes  by  my  faith, 
That  shal  he  finde,  that  hire  misdoth  or  saith. 
But  let  us  passe  away  fro  this  matere. 

My  lord  the  Monk,  quod  he,  be  mery  of  chere, 
For  ye  shul  telle  a  tale  trewely. 
Lo,  Rouchester  stondeth  here  faste  by. 
Ride  forth,  min  owen  lord,  breke  not  our  game. 
But  by  my  trouthe  I  can  not  telle  youre  name ; 
Whether  shal  I  call  you  my  lord  Dan  John, 
Or  Dan  Thomas,  or  elles  Dan  Albon  ?   - 
Of  what  hous  be  ye,  by  your  fader  kin  ? 
I  vow  to  God,  thou  hast  a  ful  faire  skin ; 
It  is  a  gentil  pasture  ther  thou  gost ; 
Thou  art  not  like  a  penaunt1  or  a  gost. 

Upon  my  faith  thou  art  som  officer, 
Som  worthy  sextein,  or  som  celerer.2 
For  by  my  fadres  soule,  as  to  my  dome,3 
Thou  art  a  maister,  whan  thou  art  at  home  ; 
No  poure  cloisterer,  ne  non  novice, 
But  a  governour  bothe  ware  and  wise, 
And  therwithal  of  braunes  and  of  bones 
A  right  wel  faring  persone  for  the  nones. 
I  pray  to  God  yeve  him  confusion, 
That  first  thee  brought  into  religion. 
Thou  woldest  han  ben  a  trede-foul4  a  right, 
Haddest  thou  as  grete  leve,  as  thou  hast  might, 
To  parfourme  all  thy  lust  in  engendrure, 
Thou  haddest  begeten  many  a  creature. 
Alas  !  why  werest  thou  so  wide  a  cope  ? 
God  yeve  me  sorwe,  but,  and  I  were  pope, 
Not  only  thou  but  every  mighty  man, 
Though  he  were  shore  ful  high  upon  his  pan, 
Shuld  have  a  wif,  tor  al  this  world  is  lorn  ; 
Religion  hath  take  up  all  the  corn 

1  A  person  doing  penance. 

s  The  officer  in  a  monastery  who  had  the  care  of  the  provision*. 

3  In  my  opinion.  *  /.  #.,  a  cock. 


418  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         13961-13996. 

Of  treding,  and  we  borel  men  ben  shrimpes : 
Of  feble  trees  ther  comen  wretched  impes. 
This  maketh  that  our  heires  ben  so  sclendre 
And  feble,  that  they  moun  not  wel  engendre. 
This  maketh  that  our  wives  wol  assaye 
Eeligious  folk,  for  they  moun  better  paye 
Of  Venus  payementes  than  mowen  we: 
God  wote,  no  lussheburghes1  payen  ye. 
But  be  not  wroth,  my  lord,  though  that  I  play; 
Ful  oft  in  game  a  sothe  have  I  herd  say. 

This  worthy  Monke  toke  all  in  patience, 
And  saide ;  I  wol  don  all  my  diligence, 
As  fer  as  souneth  into  honestee, 
To  tellen  you  a  tale,  or  two  or  three. 
And  if  you  list  to  herken  hiderward, 
I  wol  you  sayn  the  lif  of  Seint  Edward; 
Or  elles  tragedies  first  I  wol  telle, 
Of  which  I  have  an  hundred  in  my  celle. 

Tragedie  is  to  sayn  a  certain  storie, 
As  olde  bookes  maken  us  memorie, 
Of  him  that  stood  in  gret  prosperitee, 
And  is  yfallen  out  of  high  degree 
In  to  miserie,  and  endeth  wretchedly. 
And  they  ben  versified  communly 
Of  six  feet,  which  men  clepen  exametron:8 
In  prose  eke  ben  endited  many  on, 
And  eke  in  metre,  in  many  a  sondry  wise. 
Lo,  this  declaring  ought  ynough  suffice. 

Now  herkeneth,  if  you  liketh  for  to  here. 
But  first  I  you  beseche  in  this  matere, 
Though  I  by  ordre  telle  not  thise  thinges, 
Be  it  of  popes,  emperoures,  or  kinges, 
After  hir  ages,  as  men  written  finde, 
But  telle  hem  som  before  and  som  behinde, 
As  it  now  cometh  to  my  remembrance, 
Have  me  excused  of  min  ignorance. 

1  Base  coins,  first  imported,  as  Skinner  thinks,  from  Luxemburg.— 
TtfitchiU. 

2  It  is  true  that  the  tragic  Iambic  Terse  is  an  Hexameter,  as  regards 
the  number  of  its  metres ;  but  that  term  is  usually  applied  to  the  heroic 
verse,  composed  of  dactyls  and  spondees, 


Y*  Monkes  Tale 


419 

13997-14024. 

I  wol  bewaile  in  manere  of  tragedie 
The  harm  of  hem,  that  stode  in  high  degree. 
And  fellen  so,  that  there  n'as  no  remedie 
To  bring  hem  out  of  hire  adversitee. 
For  certain  whan  that  fortune  list  to  flee, 
Ther  may  no  man  of  hire  the  cours  withholde : 
Let  no  man  trust  on  blinde  prosperitee ; 
Beth  ware  by  thise  ensamples  trewe  and  olde. 

LUCIFER. 

At  Lucifer,  though  he  an  angel  were 
And  not  a  man,  at  him  I  wol  beginne. 
For  though  fortune  may  non  angel  dere,1 
From  high  degree  yet  fell  he  for  his  sinne 
Doun  into  helle,  whereas  he  yet  is  inne. 
O  Lucifer,  brightest  of  angels  alle, 
Now  art  thou  Sathanas,  that  maist  not  twinne* 
Out  of  misewe,  in  which  that  thou  art  falle. 

ADAM. 

Lo  Adam,  in  the  feld  of  Damascene 
With  Goddes  owen  finger  wrought  was  he, 
And  not  begeten  of  mannes  sperme  unclene, 
And  welte3  all  Paradis  saving  o  tree : 
Had  never  worldly  man  so  high  degree 
As  Adam,  til  he  for  misgovernance 
"Was  driven  out  of  his  prosperitee 
To  labour,  and  to  helle,  and  to  meschance. 

SAMPSON. 

Lo  Sampson,  which  that  was  annunciat 
By  the  angel,  long  or  his  nativitee : 
And  was  to  God  Almighty  consecrat, 
And  stode  in  noblesse  while  he  mighte  see: 

1  Hurt.  3  Depart,  torn.  3  Governed,  ruled. 


420  THE  CANTERBUBY  TALES.         H025-14064i 

Was  never  swiche  another  as  was  he, 

To  speke  of  strength,  and  therto  hardinesse: 

But  to  his  wives  tolde  he  his  secree, 

Thurgh  which  he  slow  himself  for  wretchednesse. 

Sampson,  this  nohle  and  mighty  champion, 
Withouten  wepen,  save  his  handes  twey, 
He  slow  and  all  to-rente  the  leon, 
Toward  his  wedding  walking  by  the  wey: 
His  false  wif  coude  him  so  plese,  and  pray, 
Til  she  his  conseil  knewe ;  and  she  untrewo 
Unto  his  foos  his  conseil  gan  bewray, 
And  him  forsoke,  and  toke  another  newe. 

Three  hundred  foxes  toke  Sampson  for  ire, 
And  all  hir  tayles  he  togeder  bond : 
And  set  the  foxes  tayles  all  on  fire, 
For  he  in  every  tayl  had  knit  a  brond. 
And  they  brent  all  the  cornes  in  that  lond, 
And  all  hir  oliveres,  and  vines  eke. 
A  thousand  men  he  slow  eke  with  his  hond, 
And  had  no  wepen,  but  an  asses  cheke. 

Whan  they  were  slain,  so  thursted  him,  that  he 
Was  wel  nie  lorne,  for  which  he  gan  to  preye, 
That  God  wold  on  his  peine  han  som  pitee, 
And  send  him  drinke,  or  elles  moste  he  deye ; 
And  of  his  asses  cheke,  that  was  so  dreye, 
Out  of  a  wang1  toth  sprang  anon  a  welle, 
Of  which  he  dranke  ynough,  shortly  to  seye. 
Thus  halp  him  God,  as  Judicum?  can  telle. 

By  veray  force  at  Gasa  on  a  night, 
Maugre  the  Philistins  of  that  citee, 
The  gates  of  the  toun  he  hath  up  plight,8 
And  on  his  bak  ycaried  hem  hath  he 
High  on  an  hilL  wher  as  men  might  hem  se. 
O  noble  mighty  Sampson,  lefe  and  dere, 
Haddest  thou  not  told  to  women  thy  secree, 
In  all  this  world  ne  had  ther  ben  thy  pere. 

This  Sampson  never  sider  drank  ne  wine, 
Ne  on  his  hed  came  rasour  non  ne  shere, 
By  precept  of  the  messager  divine, 
For  all  his  strengthes  in  his  heres  were: 

1  Cheek.  *  I.e.,  Judges.  »  Plucked. 


14065-14100.  THE  MONKES  TALE.  421 

And  fully  twenty  winter  yere  by  yere 

He  hadde  of  Israel  the  governance : 

But  sone  shal  he  wepen  many  a  tere, 

For  women  shuln  him  bringen  to  meschance. 

Unto  his  lemman  Dalida  he  told, 
That  in  his  heres  all  his  strengthe  lay, 
And  falsely  to  his  fomen  she  him  sold ; 
And  sleping  in  hire  barme1  upon  a  day 
She  made  to  clip  or  shere  his  here  away, 
And  made  his  fomen  all  his  craft  espien ; 
And  whan  that  they  him  fond  in  this  array, 
They  bond  him  fast,  and  putten  out  his  eyen. 

But  or  his  here  was  clipped  or  yshave, 
Ther  was  no  bond,  with  which  men  might  him  bind, 
But  now  is  he  in  prison  in  a  cave, 
Wheras  they  made  him  at  the  querne*  grinde. 
O  noble  Sampson,  strongest  of  mankind, 
O  whilom  juge  in  glory  and  richesse, 
Now  mayest  thou  wepen  with  thin  eyen  blind, 
Sith  thou  fro  wele  art  falle  in  wretchednesse. 

The  ende  of  this  caitif  was,  as  I  shal  seye: 
His  fomen  made  a  feste  upon  a  day, 
And  made  him  as  hir  fool  before  hem  pleye: 
And  this  was  in  a  temple  of  gret  array. 
But  at  the  last  he  made  a  foule  affray, 
For  he  two  pillers  shoke,  and  made  hem  falle, 
And  doun  fell  temple  and  all  and  ther  it  lay, 
And  slow  himself,  and  eke  his  fomen  alle. 

This  is  to  sayn,  the  princes  everich  on, 
And  eke  three  thousand  bodies  wer  ther  slain. 
"With  falling  of  the  gret  temple  of  ston. 
Of  Sampson  now  wol  I  no  more  sain: 
Beth  ware  by  this  ensample  old  and  plain, 
That  no  men  tell  hir  conseil  to  hir  wives 
Of  swiche  thing,  as  they  wold  han  secree  fain, 
If  that  it  touch  hir  limmes  or  hir  lives. 

l  Lap.  *  Mill 

36 


422  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  14101-14132. 


HERCULES. 

Of  Hercules  the  soveraine  conquerour 
Singen  his  werkes  laude,  and  high  renoun ; 
For  in  his  time  of  strength  he  was  the  flour. 
He  slow  and  raft  the  skinne  of  the  leon; 
He  of  Centaures  laid  the  host  adoun ; 
He  Harpies  slow,  the  cruel  briddes  felle ; 
He  golden  apples  raft  fro  the  dragon; 
He  drow  out  Cerberus  the  hound  of  helle. 

He  slow  the  cruel  tirant  Busirus, 
And  made  his  hors  to  fret  him  flesh  and  bon; 
He  slow  the  firy  serpent  venemous ; 
Of  Achelous  two  homes  brake  he  on. 
And  he  slow  Cacus  in  a  cave  of  ston; 
He  slow  the  geaunt  Anteus  the  strong; 
He  slow  the  grisely  bore,  and  that  anon; 
And  bare  the  hevene  on  his  nekke  long. 

"Was  never  wight  sith  that  the  world  began, 
That  slow  so  many  monstres,  as  did  he ; 
Thurghout  the  wide  world  his  name  ran, 
What  for  his  strength,  and  for  his  high  bountee; 
And  every  reaume1  went  he  for  to  see, 
He  was  so  strong  that  no  man  might  him  let; 
At  bothe  the  worldes  endes,  saith  Trophee,2 
In  stede  of  boundes  he  a  pillar  set. 

A  lemman  had  this  noble  champion,    - 
That  highte  Deianire,  as  fresh  as  May; 
And  as  thise  clerkes  maken  mention, 
She  hath  him  sent  a  sherte  fresh  and  gay: 
Alas  !  this  sherte,  alas  and  wala  wa ! 
Evenimed  was  sotilly  withalle, 
That  or  that  he  had  wered  it  half  a  day, 
It  made  his  flesh  all  from  his  bones  falle. 

1  Kingdom. 
*  "  It  occurred  to  me  that  this  reference  might  possibly  be  to  the 
original  of  the  Troilut  and  Creteide,  which,  according  to  Lydgate,  was 
called  Trophe.  (See  the  n.  on  p.  389,  1.  24,  in  page  514,  ed.  4 to.) 
But  I  cannot  find  any  such  passage,  as  is  here  quoted,  in  the  Filottrato." 
— Tyrwhitt.    I  know  not  who  can  be  the  author  alluded  to. 


14133-14164.  THE   MONKES  TALE.  423 

But  natheles  som  clerkes  hire  excusen 
By  on,  that  highte  Nessus,  that  it  maked; 
Be  as  may  be,  I  wol  hire  not  accusen ; 
But  on  his  bak  this  sherte  he  wered  al  naked, 
Til  that  his  flesh  was  for  the  venim  blaked;1 
And  whan  he  saw  non  other  remedie ; 
In  hote  coles  he  hath  himselven  raked, 
For  with  no  venime  deigned  him  to  die. 

Thus  starf 2  this  worthy  mighty  Hercules. 
Lo,  who  may  trust  on  fortune  any  throw  ?3 
For  him  that  folweth  all  this  world  of  pres, 
Or  he  be  ware,  is  oft  ylaid  ful  lowe : 
Ful  wise  is  he,  that  can  himselven  knowe. 
Beth  ware,  for  whan  that  fortune  list  to  glose, 
Than  waiteth  she  hire  man  to  overthrowe 
By  swiche  a  way,  as  he  wold  lest  suppose. 


NABUCHODONOSOB. 

The  mighty  trone,  the  precious  tresor, 
The  glorious  sceptre,  and  real  majestee, 
That  hadde  the  king  Nabuchodonosor, 
"With  tonge  unnethes4  may  descrived  be. 
He  twies  wan  Jerusalem  the  citee, 
The  vessell  of  the  temple  he  with  him  ladde; 
At  Babiloine  was  his  soveraine  see, 
In  which  his  glorie  and  his  delit  he  hadde. 

The  fayrest  children  of  the  blood  real| 
Of  Israel  he  did  do  gelde  anon, 
And  maked  eche  of  hem  to  ben  his  thral.* 
Amonges  other  Daniel  was  on, 
That  was  the  wisest  child  of  everich  on ; 
For  he  the  dremes  of  the  king  expouned, 
Wher  as  in  Caldee  clerk  was  ther  non, 
That  wiste  to  what  fin6  his  dremes  souned. 


1  Blackened.  2  i  >;.-, i. 

•  Time.  *  With 

*  Servant,  slave.  6  End. 


424  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         14165-14200. 

This  proude  king  let  make  a  statue  of  gold 
Sixty  cubites  long,  and  seven  in  brede, 
To  which  image  bothe  yonge  and  old 
Commanded  he  to  loute,1  and  have  in  drede, 
Or  in  a  fourneis,  ful  of  flames  rede, 
He  shuld  be  brent,  that  wolde  not  obeye: 
But  never  wold  assenten  to  that  dede 
Daniel,  ne  his  yonge  felawes  tweye. 

This  king  of  kinges  proud  was  and  elat; 
He  wend  that  God,  that  sit  in  majestee, 
Ne  might  him  nat  bereve  of  his  estat: 
But  sodenly  he  lost  his  dignitee, 
And  like  a  best  him  semed  for  to  be, 
And  ete  hey  as  an  oxe,  and  lay  therout: 
In  rain  with  wilde  bestes  walked  he, 
Til  certain  time  was  ycome  about. 

And  like  an  egles  fethers  wex  his  heres, 
His  neyles  like  a  briddes  clawes  were, 
Til  God  relesed  him  at  certain  yeres, 
And  yaf  him  wit,  and  than  with  many  a  tere 
He  thanked  God,  and  ever  his  lif  in  fere 
Was  he  to  don  amis,  or  more  trespace : 
And  til  that  time  he  laid  was  on  his  here, 
He  knew  that  God  was  ful  of  might  and  grace. 

BALTHASAR.2 

His  sone,  which  that  highte  Balthasar, 

That  held  the  regne  after  his  fadres  day, 

He  by  his  fader  coude  not  beware, 

For  proude  he  was  of  herte,  and  of  array: 

And  eke  an  ydolaster  was  he  ay. 

His  high  estat  assured  him  in  pride ; 

But  fortune  cast  him  doun  (and  ther  he  lay) 

And  sodenly  his  regne  gan  devide. 

A  feste  he  made  unto  his  lordes  alle 
Upon  a  time^  and  made  hem  blithe  be, 
And  than  his  officeres  gan  he  calle ; 
Goth,  bringeth  forth  the  vessels,  quod  he, 

l  Bow.  3  /.  e.,  Belshazzar. 


14201-11240.  THE  MONKES  TALE.  425 

Which  that  my  fader  in  his  prosperitee 
Out  of  the  temple  of  Jerusalem  beraft, 
And  to  our  highe  goddes  thanke  we 
Of  honour,  that  our  eldres  with  us  last. 

His  wif,  his  lordes,  and  his  concubines 
Ay  dronken,  while  hir  appetites  last, 
Out  of  thise  noble  vessels  sondry  wines. 
And  on  a  wall  this  king  his  eyen  cast, 
And  saw  an  hand  armies,  that  wrote  ful  fast, 
For  fere  of  whiche  he  quoke,  and  siked  sore. 
This  hand,  that  Balthasar  so  sore  agast, 
"Wrote  Mane  techel  phares,  and  no  more. 

In  al  that  lond  Magicien  was  non, 
That  coud  expounen  what  this  lettre  ment, 
But  Daniel  expouned  it  anon, 
And  said ;  O  king,  God  to  thy  fader  lent 
Glorie  and  honour,  regne,  tresour,  and  rent ; 
And  he  was  proud,  and  nothing  God  ne  dradde; 
And  therfore  God  gret  wreche  upon  him  sent, 
And  him  beraft  the  regne  that  he  hadde. 

He  was  out  cast  of  mannes  compagnie, 
With  asses  was  his  habitation ; 
And  ete  hey,  as  a  best,  in  wete  and  drie, 
Til  that  he  knew  by  grace  and  by  reson, 
That  God  of  heven  hath  domination 
Over  every  regne,  and  every  creature: 
And  than  had  God  of  him  compassion, 
And  him  restored  his  regne  and  his  figure. 

Eke  thou,  that  art  his  sone,  art  proud  also, 
And  knowest  all  thise  thinges  veraily ; 
And  art  rebel  to  God,  and  art  his  fo. 
Thou  dranke  eke  of  his  vessels  boldely, 
Thy  wif  eke,  and  thy  wenches  sinfully 
Dranke  of  the  same  vessels  sondry  wines, 
And  heried1  false  goddes  cursedly, 
Therfore  to  thee  yshapen  ful  gret  pine  is. 

This  hand  was  sent  fro  God,  that  on  the  wall 
Wrote  Mane  techel  phares,  trusteth  me ; 
Thy  regne  is  don,  tnou  weyest  nought  at  all; 
Divided  is  thy  regne,  and  it  shal  be 
i  Praised. 
36* 


426  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         14241-14276. 

To  Medes  and  to  Perses  yeven,  quod  he. 
And  thilke  same  night  this  king  was  slawe; 
And  Darius  occupied  his  degree, 
Though  he  therto  had  neither  right  ne  lawe. 

Lordinges,  ensample  hereby  moun  ye  take, 
How  that  in  lordship  is  no  sikernesse  :l 
For  whan  that  fortune  wol  a  man  forsake, 
She  bereth  away  his  regne  and  his  richesse, 
And  eke  his  frendes,  bothe  more  and  lesse. 
For  what  man  that  hath  frendes  thurgh  fortune, 
Mishap  wol  make  hem  enemies,  I  gesse. 
This  proverbe  is  ful  soth,  and  ful  commune. 


ZENOBIA. 

Zenobia,  of  Palmerie  the  quene, 
(As  writen  Persiens  of  hire  noblesse) 
So  worthy  was  in  armes,  and  so  kene, 
That  no  wight  passed  hire  in  hardinesse, 
Ne  in  linage,  ne  in  other  gentillesse. 
Of  kinges  blood  of  Perse  is  she  descended; 
I  say  not  that  she  hadde  most  fairenesse, 
But  of  hire  shape  she  might  not  ben  amended. 

From  hire  childhode  I  finde  that  she  fledde 
Office  of  woman,  and  to  wode  she  went ; 
And  many  a  wilde  hartes  blood  she  shedde 
With  arwes  brode  that  she  to  hem  sent ; 
She  was  so  swift,  that  she  anon  hem  hent. 
And  whan  that  she  was  elder,  she  wold  kille 
Leons,  lepards,  and  beres  al  to-rent, 
And  in  hire  armes  weld  hem  at  hire  wille. 

She  dorst  the  wilde  bestes  dennes  seke, 
And  rennen2  in  the  mountaignes  all  the  night, 
And  slepe  under  the  bush  ;  and  she  coud  eke 
Wrastlen  by  veray  force  and  veray  might 
With  any  yong  man,  were  he  never  so  wight; 
Ther  mighte  nothing  in  hire  armes  stonde  ; 
She  kept  hire  maidenhode  from  every  wight, 
To  no  man  deigned  hire  for  to  be  bonde. 
1  Security.  -  Bun  about. 


14277-1*316.  THE  MONKJES  TALE.  427 

But  at  the  last  hire  frendes  han  hire  maried 
To  Odenate,  a  prince  of  that  contree ; 
Al  were  it  so,  that  she  hem  longe  taried. 
And  ye  shul  understonden,  how  that  he 
Hadde  swiche  fantasies  as  hadde  she; 
But  natheles,  whan  they  were  knit  in  fere, 
They  lived  in  joye,  and  in  felicitee, 
For  eche  of  hem  had  other  lefe  and  dere. 

Save  o  thing,  that  she  n'olde  never  assente, 
By  no  way,  that  he  shulde  by  hire  lie 
But  ones,  for  it  was  hire  plaine  entente 
To  have  a  childe,  the  world  to  multiplie: 
And  al  so  sone  as  that  she  might  espie, 
That  she  was  not  with  childe  with  that  dede, 
Than  would  nhe  suffer  him  don  his  fantasia 
Eftsone,1  and  not  but  ones  out  of  drede. 

And  if  she  were  with  child  at  thilke  cast^ 
No  more  shuld  he  playen  thilke  game 
Till  fully  fourty  dayes  weren  past : 
Than  wold  she  ones  suffre  him  do  the  same. 
Al  were  this  Odenate  wild  or  tame, 
He  gate  no  more  of  hire,  for  thus  she  sayde, 
It  was  to  wives  lecherie  and  shame, 
In  other  cas  if  that  men  with  hem  playde. 

Two  sones  by  this  Odenate  had  she, 
The  which  she  kept  in  vertue  and  lettrure. 
But  now  unto  our  tale  turne  we : 
I  say,  so  worshipful  a  creature, 
And  wise  therwith,  and  large  with  mesure, 
So  penible  in  the  werre,  and  curteis  eke, 
Ne  more  labour  might  in  werre  endure, 
"Was  non,  though  al  this  world  men  shulden  seke. 

Hire  riche  array  ne  might  not  be  told, 
As  wel  in  vessell  as  in  hire  clothing: 
She  was  al  clad  in  pierrie2  and  in  gold, 
And  eke  she  lefte  not  for  non  hunting 
To  have  oi  sondry  tonges  ful  knowing, 
Whan  that  she  leiser  had,  and  for  to  entend 
To  lernen  bookes  was  all  hire  liking, 
How  she  in  vertue  might  hire  lif  dispend. 
1  Again.  *  Jewels,  precious  stones. 


428  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         14317-14856. 

And  shortly  of  this  stone  for  to  trete, 
So  doughty  was  hire  husbond  and  eke  she, 
That  they  conquered  many  regnes  grete 
In  the  Orient,  with  many  a  faire  citee, 
Appertenaunt  unto  the  majestee 
Of  Rome,  and  with  strong  hand  held  hem  ful  fast, 
Ne  never  might  hir  fomen  don  hem  flee, 
Ay  while  that  Odenates  dayes  last. 

Hire  batailles,  who  so  list  hem  for  to  rede, 
Againe  Sapor  the  king,  and  other  mo, 
And  how  that  all  this  processe  fell  in  dede, 
Why  she  conquered,  and  what  title  therto, 
And  after  of  hire  mischefe  and  hire  wo, 
How  that  she  was  beseged,  and  ytake, 
Let  him  unto  my  maister  Petrark  go, 
That  writeth  ynough  of  this,  I  undertake. 

Whan  Odenate  was  ded,  she  mightily 
The  regnes  held,  and  with  hire  propre  hond 
Agains  hire  fos  she  fought  so  cruelly, 
That  ther  n'as  king  ne  prince  in  all  that  lond, 
That  he  n'as  glad,  if  he  that  grace  fond 
That  she  ne  wolde  upon  his  lond  werreye: 
With  hire  they  maden  alliaunce  by  bond 
To  ben  in  pees,  and  let  hire  ride  and  pleye. 

The  emperour  of  Rome  Claudius, 
Ne,  him  beforn,  the  Romain  Galien 
Ne  dorste  never  be  so  corageous, 
Ne  non  Ermin,  ne  non  Egiptien, 
Ne  Surrien,  nfc  non  Arabien 
Within  the  feld  ne  dorste  with  hire  fight, 
Lest  that  she  wold  hem  with  hire  hondes  slen, 
Or  with  hire  meinie  putten  hem  to  flight. 

In  kinges  habite  wente  hire  sones  two, 
As  heires  of  hir  fadres  regnes  alle, 
And  Heremanno  and  Timolao 
Hir  names  were,  as  Persiens  hem  calle. 
But  ay  fortune  hath  in  hire  hony  galle : 
This  mighty  quene  may  no  while  endure, 
Fortune  out  of  hire  regne  made  hire  falle 
To  wretchednesse,  and  to  misaventure. 


14357-14392.  THE  MONKES  TALE.  429 

Aurelian,  whan  that  the  governance 
Of  Rome  came  into  his  hondes  twey, 
He  shope  upon  this  quene  to  do  vengeance, 
And  with  his  legions  he  toke  his  way 
Toward  Zenobie,  and  shortly  for  to  say, 
He  made  hire  flee,  and  atte  last  hire  hent, 
And  fettred  hire,  and  eke  hire  children  tway, 
And  wan  the  lond,  and  home  to  Rome  he  went. 

Amonges  other  thinges  that  he  wan, 
Hire  char,  that  was  with  gold  wrought  and  pierrie, 
This  grete  Romain,  this  Aurelian 
Hath  with  him  lad,  for  that  men  shuld  it  see. 
Beforen  his  triumphe  walketh  she 
With  gilte  chaines  on  hire  necke  honging, 
Crouned  she  was,  as  after  hire  degree, 
And  ful  of  pierrie  charged  hire  clothing. 

Alas  fortune !  she  that  whilom  was 
Dredeful  to  kinges  and  to  emperoures, 
Now  gaureth1  all  the  peple  on  hire,  alas! 
And  she  that  helmed  was  in  starke  stoures,' 
And  wan  by  force  tounes  stronge  and  toures, 
Shal  on  hire  hed  now  were  a  vitremite  :* 
And  she  that  bare  the  sceptre  ful  of  floures, 
Shal  bere  a  distaf  hire  cost  for  to  quite. 


NERO. 

Although  that  Nero  were  as  vicious, 
As  any  fend,  that  lith  ful  low  adoun, 
Yet  he,  as  telleth  us  Suetonius, 
This  wide  world  had  in  subjectioun, 
Both  Est  and  West,  South  and  Septentrioun.4 
Of  rubies,  saphires,  and  of  perles  white 
Were  all  his  clothes  brouded  up  and  doun, 
For  he  in  gemmes  gretly  gan  delite. 

More  delicat,  more  pompous  of  array, 
More  proude,  was  never  emperour  than  he ; 
That  ilke  cloth  that  he  had  wered  o  day, 
After  that  time  he  n'olde  it  never  see; 

»  Gazeth.  *  Battles. 

*  What  this  means  Tyrwhitt  cannot  tell.  *  North, 


430  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         14393-14488. 

Nettea  of  gold  threde  had  he  gret  plentee, 
To  fish  in  Tiber,  whan  him  list  to  play; 
His  lustes  were  as  law,  in  his  degree, 
For  fortune  as  his  frend  wold  him  obay. 

He  Rome  brente  for  his  delicacie ; 
The  senatours  he  slow  upon  a  day, 
To  heren  how  that  men  wold  wepe  and  crie ; 
And  slow  his  brother,  and  by  his  suster  lay. 
His  moder  made  he  in  pitous  array 
For  he  hire  wombe  let  slitten,  to  behold 
Wher  he  conceived  was,  so  wala  wa ! 
That  he  so  litel  of  his  moder  told. 

No  tere  out  of  his  eyen  for  that  sight 
Ne  came,  but  sayd,  a  faire  woman  was*  she. 
Gret  wonder  is,  how  that  he  coud  or  might 
Be  domesman1  of  hire  dede  beautee : 
The  wine  to  bringen  him  commanded  he, 
And  dranke  anon,  non  other  wo  he  made. 
Whan  might  is  joined  unto  crueltee, 
Alas !  to  depe  wol  the  venime  wade. 

In  youthe  a  maister  had  this  emperour 
To  techen  him  lettrure  and  curtesie, 
For  of  moralitee  he  was  the  flour, 
As  in  his  time,  but  if  bookes  lie. 
And  while  this  maister  had  of  him  maistrie, 
He  maked  him  so  conning  and  so  souple, 
That  longe  time  it  was,  or  tyrannie, 
Or  any  vice  dorst  in  him  uncouple. 

This  Seneka,  of  which  that  I  devise, 
Because  Nero  had  of  him  swiche  drede, 
For  he  fro  vices  wold  him  ay  chastise 
Discretly,  as  by  word,  and  not  by  dede, 
Sire,  he  wold  say,  an  emperour  mote  nede 
Be  vertuous,  and  haten  tyrannie. 
For  which  he  made  him  in. a  bathe  to  blede 
On2  bothe  his  armes,  till  he  muste  die. 

This  Nero  had  eke  of  a  custumaunce 
In  youth  ageins  his  maister  for  to  rise ; 
"Which  afterward  him  thought  a  gret  grevaunce^ 
Therfore  he  made  him  dien  in  this  wise. 
1  Judge.  *  From. 


14433-14468.  THE  MONKES  TALE.  431 

But  natheles  this  Seneka  the  wise 
Chees  in  a  bathe  to  die  in  this  manere, 
Rather  than  han  another  turmentise : 
And  thus  hath  Nero  slain  his  maister  dere. 

Now  fell  it  so,  that  fortune  list  no  lenger 
The  highe  pride  of  Nero  to  cherice: 
For  though  that  he  were  strong,  yet  was  she  strenger. 
She  thoughte  thus ;  by  God  I  am  to  nice 
To  set  a  man,  that  is  fulfilled  of  vice, 
In  high  degree,  and  emperour  him  calle 
By  God  out  of  his  sete  I  wol  him  trice,1 
Whan  he  lest  weneth,  sonest  shal  he  falle. 

The  peple  rose  upon  him  on  a  night 
For  his  defaute,  ana  whan  he  it  espied, 
Out  of  his  dores  anon  he  hath  him  dight 
Alone,  and  ther  he  wend  han  ben  allied, 
He  knocked  fast,  and  ay  the  more  he  cried, 
The  faster  shetten  they  hir  dores  alle : 
Tho  wist  he  wel  he  had  himself  misgied,3 
And  went  his  way,  no  lenger  dorst  he  calle. 

The  peple  cried  and  rombled  up  and  doun, 
That  with  his  eres  herd  he  how  they  sayde, 
Wher  is  this  false  tyrant,  this  Neroun  ? 
For  fere  almost  out  of  his  wit  he  brayde, 
And  to  his  goddes  pitously  he  preide 
For  socour,  but  it  mighte  not  betide : 
For  drede  of  this  him  thoughte  that  he  deide, 
And  ran  into  a  gardin  him  to  hide. 

And  in  this  gardin  fond  he  cherles  tweye 
That  saten  by  a  fire  gret  and  red, 
And  to  thise  cherles  two  he  gan  to  preye 
To  slen  him,  and  to  girden  of  his  hed, 
That  to  his  body,  whan  that  he  were  ded, 
Were  no  despit  ydon  for  his  defame. 
Himself  he  slow,  he  coud  no  better  rede, 
Of  which  fortune  lough3  and  hadde  a  game. 

1  Thrust  *  Misguided.  *  Laughed. 


432  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         14469-14500. 


HOLOFERNES. 

"Was  never  capitaine  under  a  king, 
That  regnes  mo  put  in  subjectioun, 
Ne  strenger  was  in  feld  of  alle  thing 
As  in  his  time,  ne  greter  of  renoun, 
Ne  more  pompous  in  high  presumptioun, 
Than  Holoferne,  which  that  fortune  ay  last 
So  likerously,  and  lad  him  up  and  doun, 
Til  that  his  hed  was  of,  or  that  he  wist. 

Not  only  that  this  world  had  him  in  awe 
For  lesing  of  richesse  and  libertee ; 
But  he  made  every  man  reneie1  his  lawe. 
Nabuchodonosor  was  God,  sayd  he ; 
Non  other  God  ne  shulde  honoured  be. 
Ageins  his  heste  ther  dare  no  wight  trespace, 
Save  in  Bethulia,  a  strong  citee, 
Wher  Eliachim  a  preest  was  of  that  place. 

But  take  kepe  of  the  deth  of  Holoferne : 
Amid  his  host  he  dronken  lay  a  night 
"Within  his  tente,  large  as  is  a  berne ; 
And  yet  for  all  his  pompe  and  all  his  might* 
Judith,  a  woman,  as  he  lay  upright 
Sleping,  his  hed  of  smote,  and  fro  his  tente 
Ful  prively  she  stale  from  every  wight, 
And  with  his  hed  unto  hire  toun  she  wente. 


ANTIOCHUS. 

"What  nedeth  it  of  king  Antiochua 
To  tell  his  high  and  real2  majestee, 
His  gret  pride,  and  his  werkes  venimoua? 
For  swiche  another  was  ther  non  as  he ; 
Bedeth  what  that  he  was  in  Machabe. 
And  redeth  the  proud  wordes  that  he  seid, 
And  why  he  fell  from  his  prosperitee, 
And  in  an  hill  how  wretchedly  he  deid. 

I  Renounce.  *  Royal. 


14601-14540.  THE   MONKES   TALE.  433 

Fortune  him  had  enhaunsed  so  in  pride 
That  veraily  he  wend  he  might  attaine 
Unto  the  sterres  upon  every  side, 
And  in  a  halaunce  weyen  eche  mountaine, 
And  all  the  floodes  of  the  see  restreine : 
And  Goddes  peple  had  he  most  in  hate, 
Hem  wold  he  sleen  in  turment  and  in  peine, 
Wening  that  God  ne  might  his  pride  abate. 

And  for  that  Nichanor  and  Timothee 
With  Jewes  were  venquished  mightily, 
Unto  the  Jewes  swiche  an  hate  had  he, 
That  he  bad  greithe  his  char1  ful  hastily, 
And  swore  and  sayde  ful  despitously, 
Unto  Jerusalem  he  wold  eftsone 
To  wreke  his  ire  on  it  ful  cruelly, 
But  of  his  purpos  was  he  let  ful  sone. 

God  for  his  manace  him  so  sore  smote, 
With  invisible  wound,  ay  incurable, 
That  in  his  guttes  carfe  it  so  and  bote,' 
Til  thatte  his  peines  weren  importable  ; 
And  certainly  the  wreche3  was  resonable, 
For  many  a  mannes  guttes  did  he  peine  ; 
But  from  his  purpos,  cursed  and  damnable, 
For  all  his  smerte,  he  n'olde  him  not  restreine : 

But  bade  anon  apparailen  his  host. 
And  sodenly,  or  he  was  of  it  ware, 
God  daunted  all  his  pride,  and  all  his  bost ; 
For  he  so  sore  fell  out  of  his  chare, 
That  it  his  limmes  and  his  skinne  to-tare, 
So  that  he  neither  mighte  go  ne  ride; 
But  in  a  chaiere  men  about  him  bare, 
Alle  forbrused  bothe  bak  and  side. 

The  wreche  of  God  him  smote  so  cruelly, 
That  thurgh  his  body  wicked  wormes  crept, 
And  therwithal  he  stanke  so  horribly, 
That  non  of  all  his  meinie  that  him  kept, 
Whether  so  that  he  woke  or  elles  he  slept, 
Ne  mighte  not  of  him  the  stinke  endure. 
In  this  mischiefe  he  wailed  and  eke  wept, 
And  knew  God,  Lord  of  every  creature. 

i  Make  ready  his  chariot. 
'  It  tore  and  bit.  3  Revenge; 

37 


434  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  14541-14576. 

To  all  his  host,  and  to  himself  also 
Ful  wlatsom1  was  the  stinke  of  his  careine ; 
No  man  ne  mighte  him  beren  to  ne  fro. 
And  in  this  stinke,  and  this  horrible  peine, 
He  starf 2  ful  wretchedly  in  a  mountaine. 
Thus  hath  this  robbour,  and  this  homicide, 
That  many  a  man  made  to  wepe  and  pleine, 
Swiche  guerdon,  as  belongeth  unto  pride. 


ALEXANDER. 

The  storie  of  Alexandre  is  so  commune, 
That  every  wight,  that  hath  discretioun, 
Hath  herd  somwhat  or  all  of  his  fortune. 
This  wide  world,  as  in  conclusioun, 
He  wan  by  strength,  or  for  his  high  renoun 
They  weren  glad  for  pees  unto  him  sende. 
The  pride  of  man  and  host  he  layd  adoun, 
Wher  so  he  came,  unto  the  worldes  ende. 

Comparison  might  never  yet  be  maked 
Betwix  him  and  another  conquerour, 
For  al  this  world  for  drede  of  him  hath  quaked ; 
He  was  of  knighthode  and  of  fredome  flour; 
Fortune  him  maked  the  heir  of  hire  honour. 
Save  wine  and  women,  nothing  might  asswage 
His  high  entente  in  armes  and  labour, 
So  was  he  ful  of  leonin  corage. 

What  pris  were  it  to  him,  though  I  you  told 
Of  Darius,  and  an  hundred  thousand  mo, 
Of  kinges,  princes,  dukes,  erles  bold, 
Which  he  conquered,  and  brought  hem  into  wo  ? 
I  ray,  as  fer  as  man  may  ride  or  go 
The  world  was  his,  what  shuld  I  more  devise  ] 
For  though  I  wrote  or  told  you  ever  mo 
Of  his  knighthode,  it  mighte  not  suffice. 

Twelf  yere  he  regned,  as  saith  Machabe ; 
Philippus  sone  of  Macedoine  he  was, 
That  first  was  king  in  Grece  the  contree. 
O  worthy  gentil  Alexandre,  alas 

Loathsome.  *  Died. 


14577-14612.  THE  M0NKE9  TALE.  435 

That  ever  shuld  thee  fallen  swiche  a  cas  ! 
Enpoisoned  of  thyn  owen  folke  thou  were; 
Thy  sis1  fortune  hath  turned  into  an  as, 
And  yet  for  thee  ne  wept  she  never  a  tere. 

Who  shal  me  yeven  teres  to  complaine 
The  deth  of  gentillesse,  and  of  fraunchise,* 
That  all  this  world  welded  in  his  demaine, 
And  yet  him  thought  it  mighte  not  suffice? 
So  ful  was  his  corage  of  high  emprise. 
Alas  !  who  shal  me  helpen  to  endite 
False  fortune,  and  poison  to  despise  ? 
The  whiche  two  of  all  this  wo  I  wite. 


JULIUS  CESAR. 

By  wisdome,  manhode,  and  by  gret  labour, 
From  humblehede  to  real  majestee 
Up  rose  he  Julius  the  conquerour, 
That  wan  all  the  Occident,  by  lond  and  see, 
By  strengthe  of  hond,  or  elles  by  tretee, 
And  unto  Rome  made  hem  tributarie  ; 
And  sith3  of  Rome  the  emperour  was  he, 
Til  that  fortune  wexe  his  adversarie. 

O  mighty  Cesar,  that  in  Thessalie 
Ageins  Pompeius  father  thin  in  la  we, 
That  of  the  orient  had  all  the  chivalrie, 
As  fer  as  that  the  day  beginneth  dawe, 
Thou  thurgh  thy  knighthode  hast  hem  take  and  slawe, 
Save  fewe  folk,  that  with  Pompeius  fledde, 
Thurgh  which  thou  put  all  the  orient  in  awe, 
Thanke  fortune,  that  so  wel  thee  spedde. 

But  now  a  litel  while  I  wol  bewaile 
This  Pompeius,  this  noble  governour 
Of  Rome,  which  that  fled  at  this  bataille. 
I  say,  on  of  his  men,  a  false  traitour, 
His  hed  of  smote,  to  winnen  him  favour 
Of  Julius,  and  him  the  hed  he  brought: 
Alas,  Pompeie,  of  the  orient  conquerour, 
That  fortune  unto  swiche  a  fin  thee  brought ! 

1  I.  e.,  thy  cast  of  six,  the  highest  throw  at  dice,  has  been  turned 
into  the  as,  the  lowest.  3  Frankness.  s  Some  time. 


436  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  14613-14652. 

To  Rome  again  repaireth  Julius 
With  his  triumphe  laureat  ful  hie, 
But  on  a  time  Brutus  and  Cassius, 
That  ever  had  of  his  high  estat  envie, 
Ful  prively  had  made  conspiracie 
Ageins  tins  Julius  in  sotil  wise : 
And  cast  the  place,  in  which  he  shulde  die 
"With  hodekins,  as  I  shal  you  devise. 

This  Julius  to  the  capitolie  wente 
Upon  a  day,  as  he  was  wont  to  gon, 
And  in  the  capitolie  anon  him  hente 
This  false  Brutus,  and  his  other  foon, 
And  stiked  him  with  bodekins  anon 
With  many  a  wound,  and  thus  they  let  him  lie: 
But  never  gront1  he  at  no  stroke  but  on, 
Or  elles  at  two,  but  if  his  storie  lie. 

So  manly  was  this  Julius  of  herte, 
And  so  wel  loved  estatly  honestee, 
That  though  his  dedly  woundes  sore  smerte, 
His  mantel  over  his  hippes  caste  he, 
For  no  man  shulde  seen  his  privetee : 
And  as  he  lay  of  dying  in  a  trance, 
And  wiste  veraily  that  ded  was  he, 
Of  honestee  yet  had  he  remembrance. 

Lucan,  to  thee  this  storie  I  recommends, 
And  to  Sueton,  and  Valerie  also, 
That  of  this  storie  writen  word  and  ende: 
How  that  to  thise  gret  conqueroures  two 
Fortune  was  first  a  frend,  and  sith  a  fo. 
No  man  ne  trust  upon  hire  favour  long, 
,       But  have  hire  in  await  for  evermo ; 

Witnesse  on  all  thise  conqueroures  strong. 

CRESXJS. 

The  riche  Cresus,  whilom  king  of  Lide 
Of  whiche  Cresus,  Cirus  sore  him  dradde, 
Yet  was  he  caught  amiddes  all  his  pride, 
And  to  be  brent  men  to  the  fire  him  ladder 
But  swiche  a  rain  doun  from  the  welken  shadde, 
That  slow2  the  fire,  and  made  to  him  escape 
But  to  beware  no  grace  yet  he  hadde, 
Til  fortune  on  the  galwes  made  him  gape. 
1  Groaned.  2  Slew,  put  oat. 


14653-14692.  THE  MONKES  TALE.  437 

Whan  he  escaped  was,  he  can  not  stint 
For  to  beginne  a  newe  werre  again : 
He  wened  wel,  for  that  fortune  him  sent 
Swiche  hap,  that  he  escaped  thurgh  the  rain, 
That  of  his  foos  he  mighte  not  be  slain ; 
And  eke  a  sweven1  upon  a  night  he  mette, 
Of  which  he  was  so  proud,  and  eke  so  fain, 
That  in  vengeance  he  all  his  herte  sette. 

Upon  a  tree  he  was,  as  that  him  thought, 
Ther  Jupiter  him  wesshe,  both  bak  and  side ; 
And  Phebus  eke  a  faire  towail  him  brought 
To  drie  him  with,  and  therfore  wex  his  pride. 
And  to  his  doughter  that  stood  him  beside, 
Which  that  he  knew  in  high  science  habound, 
He  bad  hire  tell  him  what  it  signified, 
And  she  his  dreme  began  right  thus  expound. 

The  tree  (quod  she)  the  galwes  is  to  mene, 
And  Jupiter  betokeneth  snow  and  rain, 
And  Phebus  with  his  towail  clere  and  clene, 
Tho  ben  the  sonnes  stremes,  soth  to  sain : 
Thou  shalt  anhanged  be,  fader,  certain ; 
Bain  shal  thee  wash,  and  sonne  shal  thee  drie. 
Thus  warned  him  ful  plat  and  eke  ful  plain 
His  doughter,  which  that  called  was  Phanie. 

Anhanged  was  Cresus  the  proude  king, 
His  real  trone  might  him  not  availle: 
Tragedie  is  non  other  maner  thing, 
Ne  can  in  singing  crien  ne  bewaile, 
But  for  that  fortune  all  day  wol  assaille 
With  unware2  stroke  the  regnes  that  ben  proude: 
For  whan  men  trusten  hire,  than  wol  she  faille, 
And  cover  hire  bright  face  with  a  cloude. 

PETER  OF  SPA1NE. 

O  noble,  o  worthy  Petro,  glorie  of  Spaine, 
Whom  fortune  held  so  high  in  majestee, 
Wel  oughten  men  thy  pitous  deth  complaine. 
#      Out  of  thy  lond  thy  brother  made  thee  flee, 
And  after  at  a  sege  by  sotiltee 
Thou  were  betraied,  and  lad  unto  his  tent, 
Wher  as  he  with  his  owen  hond  slow  thee, 
Succeeding  in  thy  regne  and  in  thy  rent. 

1  Dream.  '-  Unexpected. 

37* 


438  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  14693-14712. 

The  feld  of  snow,  with  th'egle  of  blak  therin, 
Caught  with  the  limerod,1  coloured  as  the  glede, 
He  brewed  this  cursednesse,  and  all  this  sinne 
The  wicked  neste  was  werker  of  this  dede ; 
Not  Charles  Oliver,2  that  toke  ay  hede 
Of  trouthe  and  honour,  but  of  Armorike 
Genilon  Oliver,  corrupt  for  mede, 
Broughte  this  worthy  king  in  swiche  a  brike.* 

PETRO,  KING  OP  CYPRE.4 

O  worthy  Petro  king  of  Cypre  also, 
That  Alexandrie  wan  by  high  maistrie, 
Ful  many  an  hethen  wroughtest  thou  ful  wo 
Of  which  thin  owen  lieges  had  envie: 
And  for  no  thing  but  for  thy  chivalrie, 
They  in  thy  bed  han  slain  thee  by  the  morwe; 
Thus  can  fortune  hire  whele  governe  and  gie, 
And  out  of  joye  bringen  men  to  sorwe. 

BARNABO  VISCOUNT.* 

Of  Milane  grete  Barnabo  Viscount, 
God  of  delit,  and  scourge  of  Lumbardie, 
"Why  shuld  I  not  thin  infortune  account, 
Sith  in  estat  thou  clomben  were  so  high? 

1  A  twig  charged  with  birdlime. 

2  Not  the  Oliver  of  Charles  (Charlemagne),  but  an  Oliver  of  Armorica, 
a  second  Genelon,  or  Ganelon.  See  ver.  13124,  15233.  So  this  passage 
is  to  be  understood,  which  in  Ed.  Urr.  has  been  changed  to — Not 
Charles,  ne  Oliver. — But  who  this  Oliver  of  Bretagne  was,  whom  our 
author  charges  as  werker  of  the  death  of  King  Petro,  is  not  so  clear. 
According  to  Mariana,  L.  xvii.  c.  13,  such  a  charge  might  most  pro- 
perly be  brought  against  Bertrand  du  Guesclin,  a  Breton,  afterwards 
Constable  of  France ;  as  it  was  in  consequence  of  a  private  treaty  with 
him,  that  Petro  came  to  his  tent,  where  he  was  killed  by  his  brother 
Henry,  and  partly,  as  some  said,  con  ayuda  de  Beltraa.  But  how  he 
should  come  to  be  called  Oliver  I  cannot  guess ;  unless,  perhaps,  Chaucer 
confou  nded  him  with  Olivier  de  Clition,  another  famous  Breton  of  1 1 1< .  a 
times,  who  was  also  Constable  of  France  after  Bertrand.  Froissart 
mentions  an  Olivier  de  Manny,  nephew  to  Bertrand  du  Guesclin,  as 
receiving  large  rewards  from  King  Henry;  vol.  i.  ch.  245,  but  he  does 
not  represent  him  as  particularly  concerned  in  the  death  of  Petro. — 
Tyrwhitt.  3  Breach,  ruin. 

4  Concerning  the  taking  of  Alexandria  by  this  prince,  and  his  other 
exploits,  see  the  note  on  ver.  51,  and  the  authors  there  cited.  He  was 
assassinated  in  1369.    Acad,  des  Ins.  T.  xx.  p.  439. — Tyrwhitt. 

5  Bernabo  Yisconti,  Duke  of  Milan,  was  deposed  by  his  nephew,  and 
thrown  into  prison,  where  he  died  in  1385. — Tyrwhitt. 


14713-14748.  THE   MONKES   TALE.  43i) 

Thy  brothers  sone,  that  was  thy  double  allie, 
For  he  thy  nevew  was,  and  sone  in  lawe, 
Within  his  prison  made  he  thee  to  die, 
But  why,  ne  how,  n'ot  I  that  thou  were  slawe. 

HUGELIN  OF  PISE.1 

Of  the  erl  Hugelin  of  Pise  the  langoux3 
Ther  may  no  tonge  tellen  for  pitee. 
But  litel  out  of  Pise  stant  a  tour, 
In  whiche  tour  in  prison  yput  was  he, 
And  with  him  ben  his  litel  children  three, 
The  eldest  scarsely  five  yere  was  of  age: 
Alas !  fortune,  it  was  gret  crueltee 
Swiche  briddes  for  to  put  in  swiche  a  cage. 

Dampned  was  he  to  die  in  that  prison, 
For  Roger,  which  that  bishop  was  of  Pise, 
Had  on  him  made  a  false  suggestion, 
Thurgh  which  the  peple  gan  upon  him  rise, 
And  put  him  in  prison,  in  swiche  a  wise, 
As  ye  han  herd ;  and  mete  and  drinke  he  had 
So  smale,  that  wel  unnethe  it  may  suffise, 
And  therwithal  it  was  ful  poure  and  bad. 

And  on  a  day  befell,  that  in  that  houre, 
Whan  that  his  mete  wont  was  to  be  brought, 
The  gailer  shette  the  dores  of  the  toure ; 
He  hered  it  wel,  but  he  spake  right  nought. 
And  in  his  herte  anon  ther  fell  a  thought, 
That  they  for  hunger  wolden  do  him  dien; 
Alas!  quod  he,  alas  that  I  was  wrought ! 
Therwith  the  teres  fellen  fro  his  eyen 

His  yonge  sone,  that  three  yere  was  of  age, 
Unto  him  said,  fader,  why  do  ye  wepe  ? 
Whan  will  the  gailer  bringen  our  potage  ? 
Is  ther  no  morsel  bred  that  ye  do  kepe  ? 
I  am  so  hungry,  that  I  may  not  slepe. 
Now  wolde  God  that  I  might  slepen  ever, 
Than  shuld  not  hunger  in  my  wombe3  crepe ; 
Ther  n'is  no  thing,  sauf  bred,  that  me  were  lever. 

1  Chaucer  himself  has  referred  us  to  Dante  for  the  original  of  this 
tragedy.  See  Inferno,  c.  xxxiii. — Tyrxchitt.  Compare  Buckley's  Great 
Cities  of  the  Middle  Ages,  art.  Pisa,  p.  193  sqq. 

a  /.  e.,  the  slow  death  by  starvation.  8  Belly. 


440  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         14749-14778. 

Thus  day  by  day  this  childe  began  to  crie, 
Til  in  his  fadres  barme  adoun  it  lay, 
And  saide ;  farewel,  fader,  I  mote  die ; 
And  kist  his  fader,  and  dide  the  same  day. 
And  whan  the  woful  fader  did  it  sey, 
For  wo  his  armes  two  he  gan  to  bite, 
And  saide,  alas !  fortune,  and  wala  wa! 
Thy  false  whele  my  wo  all  may  I  wite. 

His  children  wenden,  that  for  hunger  it  was 
That  he  his  armes  gnowe,1  and  not  for  wo, 
And  sayden :  fader,  do  not  so,  alas ! 
But  rather  ete  the  flesh  upon  us  two. 
Our  flesh  thou  yaf  us,  take  our  flesh  us  fro, 
And  ete  ynough :  right  thus  they  to  him  seide, 
And  after  that,  within  a  day  or  two, 
They  laide  hem  in  his  lappe  adoun,  and  deide. 

Himself  dispeired  eke  for  hunger  starf. 
Thus  ended  is  this  mighty  Erl  of  Pise: 
From  high  estat  fortune  away  him  carf. 
Of  this  tragedie  it  ought  ynough  suffice ; 
Who  so  wol  here  it  in  a  longer  wise, 
Bedeth  the  grete  poete  of  Itaille, 
That  highte  Dante,  for  he  can  it  devise 
Fro  point  to  point,  not  o  word  wol  he  faille. 

1  Gnawed. 


m 


THE  NONNES  PREESTES  PROLOGUE. 

14773-14804. 

Ho !  quod  the  knight,  good  sire,  no  more  of  this : 
That  ye  han  said,  it  right  ynough  ywis,1 
And  mochel  more ;  for  litel  hevinesse 
Is  right  ynough  to  mochel  folk,  I  gesse. 
I  say  for  me,  it  is  a  gret  disese, 
Wher  as  men  have  ben  in  gret  welth  and  ese, 
To  heren  of  hir  soden  fall,  alas ! 
And  the  contrary  is  joye  and  gret  solas, 
As  whan  a  man  hath  ben  in  poure  estat, 
And  climbeth  up,  and  wexeth  fortunat, 
And  ther  abideth  in  prosperitee : 
Swiche  thing  is  gladsom,  as  it  thinketh  me, 
And  of  swiche  thing  were  goodly  for  tp  telle. 
Ye,  quod  our  hoste,  by  Seint  Poules  belle, 
Ye  say  right  soth ;  this  monk  hath  clapped  loude : 
He  spake,  how  fortune  covered  with  a  cloude 
I  wote  not  what,  and  als2  of  a  tragedie 
Eight  now  ye  herd :  and  parde  no  remedie 
It  is  for  to  bewailen,  ne  complaine 
That  that  is  don,  and  als  it  is  a  paine, 
As  ye  han  said,  to  here  of  hevinesse. 
Sire  monk,  no  more  of  this,  so  God  you  blesse ; 
Your  tale  anoyeth  all  this  compagnie ; 
Swiche  talking  is  not  worth  a  boterflie, 
For  therin  is  ther  no  disport  ne  game : 
Therfore,  sire  monk,  dan  Piers  by  your  name, 
I  pray  you  hertely,  tell  us  somwhat  elles, 
For  sikerly,  n'ere3  clinking  of  your  belles, 
That  on  your  bridel  hange  on  every  side, 
By  heven  king,  that  for  us  alle  dide, 
I  shuld  er  this  have  fallen  doun  for  slepe, 
Although  the  slough  had  ben  never  so  depe: 

Truly,  certainly.  3  Moreover,  also. 

*  But  for  the. 


442  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         14806-14832. 

Than  hadde  your  tale  all  ben  tolde  in  vain. 
For  certainly,  as  that  thise  clerkes  sain, 
Wher  as  a  man  may  have  non  audience, 
Nought  helpeth  it  to  tellen  his  sentence. 
And  wel  I  wote  the  substance  is  in  me, 
If  any  thing  shal  wel  reported  be. 
Sire,  say  somwhat  of  hunting,1 1  you  pray. 

Nay,  quod  this  Monk,  I  have  no  lust  to  play: 
Now  let  another  telle  as  I  have  told. 

Than  spake  our  hoste  with  rude  speche  and  bold, 
And  sayd  unto  the  Nonnes  Preest  anon, 
Come  nere,  thou  preest,  come  hither,  thou  Sire  John,* 
Telle  us  swiche  thing,  as  may  our  hertes  glade. 
Be  blithe,  although  thou  ride  upon  a  jade. 
What  though  thyn  horse  be  bothe  foule  and  lene, 
If  he  wol  serve  thee,  recke  thee  not  a  bene : 
Loke  that  thyn  herte  be  mery  evermo. 

Yes,  hoste,  quod  he,  so  mote  I  ride  or  go, 
But  I  be  mery,  ywis  I  wol  be  blamed. 
•    And  right  anon  his  tale  he  hath  attained  f 
And  thus  he  said  unto  us  everich  on, 
This  swete  preest,  this  goodly  man  Sire  John. 


Oe  Umraes  $jrosfos  Me. 

A  pot/re  widewe  somdel  stoupen  in  age, 
"Was  whilom  dwelling  in  a  narwe  cotage, 
Beside  a  grove,  stonding  in  a  dale. 
This  widewe,  which  I  tell  you  of  my  tale, 
Sin  thilke  day  that  she  was  last  a  wif 
In  patience  led  a  ful  simple  lif. 

i  For  the  propriety  of  this  request,  see  the  note  on  ver.  166  of  the 
Monkes  Character. — Tynrhitt. 

8  I  know  not  how  it  has  happened,  that  in  the  principal  modern 
languages,  John,  or  its  equivalent,  is  a  name  of  contempt,  or  at  least  of 
slight.  So  the  Italians  use  Gianni  from  whence  Zani;  the  Spaniards 
Juan,  as  Bobo  Juan,  a  foolish-John  ;  the  French  Jean,  with  various  addi- 
tions ;  and  in  English,  when  we  call  a  man  a  John,  we  do  not  mean  it  as  a 
title  of  honour.  Chaucer  in  ver.  3708,  uses  Jackefool,  as  the  Spaniards 
do  Bobo  Juan,  and  I  suppose  Jack  ass  has  the  same  etymology. 

The  title  of  Sire  was  usually  given,  by  courtesy,  to  priests,  both  secu- 
lar and  regular Tgnohitt.  Opened,  begun. 


14833-14864.      THE   NONNES   PREESTES  TALE.  443 

For  litel  was  hire  catel  and  hire  rente : 
By  huabondry  of  swiche  as  God  hire  sente, 
She  found  hireself,  and  eke  hire  doughtren  two. 
Three  large  sowes  had  she,  and  no  mo: 
Three  kine,  and  eke  a  sheep  that  highte  Malle. 
Ful  sooty  was  hire  boure,  and  eke  hire  halle, 
In  which  she  ete  many  a  slender  mele. 
Of  poinant  sauce  ne  knew  she  never  a  dele. 
No  deintee  morsel  passed  thurgh  hire  throtej 
Hire  diete  was  accordant  to  hire  cote. 
Repletion  ne  made  hire  never  sike ; 
Attempre  diete  was  all  hire  physike, 
And  exercise,  and  hertes  sumsance. 
The  goute  let1  hire  nothing  for  to  dance, 
No  apoplexie  shente2  not  hire  hed. 
No  win  ne  dranke  she,  neyther  white  ne  red : 
Hire  bord  was  served  most  with  white  and  black, 
Milk  and  broun  bred,  in  which  she  fond  no  lack, 
Seinde3  bacon,  and  somtime  an  ey4  or  twey; 
For  she  was  as  it  were  a  maner  dey.* 
A  yerd  she  had,  enclosed  all  about 
With  stickes,  and  a  drie  diche  without, 
In  which  she  had  a  cok  highte  Chaunteclere, 
In  all  the  land  of  crowing  n'as  his  pere. 
His  vois  was  merier  than  the  mery  orgon, 
On  masse  daies  that  in  the  chirches  gon. 
Wei  sikerer6  was  his  crowing  in  his  loge, 
Than  is  a  clok,  or  any  abbey  orloge.7 
By  nature  he  knew  eche  ascentioun 
Of  the  equinoctial  in  thilke  toun; 
For  whan  degrees  fiftene  were  ascended, 
Than  crew  he,  that  it  might  not  ben  amended. 

*  Hindered.  2  Injured. 

*  Singed,  frizzled.  4  Egg. 

5  A  kind  of  dey:  but  what  a.  dey  was  it  is  not  easy  to  determine 
precisely.  It  is  mentioned,  as  the  last  species  of  labourers  in  husbandry, 
in  the  Stat.  25  Edw.  III.  St.  i.  c.  1.  Qe  chescun  charetter,  caruer, 
chaceour  des  carues,  bercher,  porcher,  deye,  &  tous  autres  servantz. — 
And  again  in  the  Stat.  37  Edw.  III.  c.  14.  Item  qe  charetters,  chamers, 
chaceours  des  carues,  bovers,  vachers,  berchers,  porchers,  deyet,  &  tous 
autres  gardeins  des  bestes,  bateurs  des  bleez,  &  toutes  maneres  des 
genz  Restate  de  garson  entendantz  a  husbandrie. — It  probably  meant 
originally  a  day-labourer  in  general,  though  it  may  since  have  been  used 
to  denote  particularly  the  superintendent  of  a  Dayerie.  See  Du  Cange' 
In  T.  Daeria.  Dayeria.  Dagascaxci.— 7",yru-A»tt. 

6  Sorer,  more  regular.  ?  Clock,  dial, 


444  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         14865-14904. 

His  combe  was  redder  than  the  fin  corall, 
Enbattelled,  as  it  were  a  castel  wall. 
His  bill  was  black,  and  as  the  jet  it  shone; 
Like  asure  were  his  legges  and  his  tone  j1 
His  nailes  whiter  than  the  lily  flour, 
And  like  the  burned  gold  was  his  colour. 

This  gentil  cok  had  in  his  governance 
Seven  hennes,  for  to  don  all  his  plesance, 
Which  were  his  susters  and  his  paramoures, 
And  wonder  like  to  him,  as  of  coloures. 
Of  which  the  fairest  hewed  in  the  throte, 
"Was  cleped  faire  damoselle  Pertelote.* 
Curteis  she  was,  discrete,  and  debonaire, 
And  compenable,  and  bare  hireself  so  faire, 
Sithen  the  day  that  she  was  sevennight  old. 
That  trewelich  she  hath  the  herte  in  hold 
Of  Chaunteclere,  loken3  in  every  lith  i4 
He  loved  hire  so,  that  wel  was  him  therwith. 
But  swiche  a  joye  it  was  to  here  hem  sing, 
Whan  that  the  brighte  sonne  gan  to  spring, 
In  swete  accord :  my  lefe  is  fare  in  lond. 

For  thilke  time,  as  I  have  understond, 
Bestes  and  briddes  couden  speke  and  sing, 

And  so  befell,  that  in  a  dawening, 
As  Chaunteclere  among  his  wives  alle 
Sate  on  his  perche,  that  was  in  the  halle, 
And  next  him  sate  his  faire  Pertelote, 
This  Chaunteclere  gan  gronen  in  his  throte, 
As  man  that  in  his  dreme  is  dretched5  sore. 
And  whan  that  Pertelote  thus  herd  him  rore 
She  was  agast,  and  saide,  herte  dere, 
What  aileth  you  to  grone  in  this  manere? 
Ye  ben  a  veray  sleper,  fy  for  shame. 

And  he  answered  and  sayde  thus ;  madame, 
I  pray  you,  that  ye  take  it  not  agrefe : 
By  God  me  mette  I  was  in  swiche  mischefe 
Right  now,  that  yet  min  herte  is  sore  afright. 
Now  God  (quod  he)  my  sweven  recche  aright,' 
And  kepe  my  body  out  of  foule  prisoun. 

Me  mette,  how  that  I  romed  up  and  doun 

i  Toes.  2  Like  0ur  "  Dame  Partlet.'* 

*  Locked,  tightly  fastened.  4  Limb. 

6  Troubled.  6  Make  my  dream  bare  a  good  issue. 


Y«  Nonnea  Priestes  Tale. 


14905-14944.       THE  NONNES  PREESTES  TALE.  H5 

Within  our  yerde,  wher  as  I  saw  a  beste, 
Was  like  an  hound,  and  wold  han  made  areste 
Upon  my  body,  and  han  had  me  ded. 
His  colour  was  betwix  yelwe  and  red; 
And  tipped  was  his  tail,  and  both  his  eres 
With  black,  unlike  the  remenant  of  his  heres.1 
His  snout  was  smal,  with  glowing  eyen  twey: 
Yet  for  his  loke  almost  for  fere  I  dey: 
This  caused  me  my  groning  douteles. 

Avoy,  quod  she,  fy  on  you  herteles.2 
Alas !  quod  she,  for  by  that  God  above 
Now  han  ye  lost  myn  herte  and  all  my  love ; 
I  cannot  love  a  coward  by  my  faith. 
For  certes,  what  so  any  woman  saith, 
We  all  desiren,  if  it  mighte  be, 
To  have  an  husbond,  hardy,  wise  and  tree, 
And  secree,  and  non  niggard  ne  no  fool, 
Ne  him  that  is  agast  of  every  tool, 
Ne  non  avantour*  by  that  God  above. 
How  dorsten  ye  for  shame  say  to  your  love, 
That  any  thing  might  maken  you  aferde  1 
Han  ye  no  mannes  herte,  and  han  a  berde  1 
Alas!  and  con  ye  ben  agast  of  swevenis  1* 
Nothing  but  vanitee,  god  wote,  in  sweven  is. 

Swevenes8  engendren  of  repletions, 
And  oft  of  fume,  and  of  complexions, 
Whan  humours  ben  to  habundant  in  a  wight. 
Certes  this  dreme,  which  ye  han  met  to-night, 
Cometh  of  the  grete  superfluitee 
Of  youre  rede  colera  parde, 
Which  causeth  folk  to  dreden  in  hir  dremes 
Of  arwes,  and  of  fire  with  rede  lemes,6 
Of  rede  bestes,  that  they  wol  hem  bite, 
Of  conteke,7  and  of  waspes  gret  and  lite  ; 
Bight  as  the  humour  of  melancolie 
Causeth  ful  many  a  man  in  slepe  to  crie, 
For  fere  of  bolles,  and  of  beres  blake,8 
Or  elles  that  blake  devils  wol  hem  take. 

Of  other  humours  coud  I  telle  also, 
That  werken  many  a  man  in  slepe  moch  wo : 

*  Hairs.  *  Fainthearted. 

*  Boaster.  *  Dreaming.  *  Dreams. 

*  Flames.  '  Contention.  8  Bulls,  and  black  bean. 

38 


446  THE  CANTERBUBY  TALES.         14945-14984* 

But  I  wol  passe,  as  lightly  as  I  can. 

Lo  Caton,  which  that  was  so  wise  a  man, 
Said  he  not  thus  ?    Ne  do  no  force1  of  dremes. 

Now,  Sire,  quod  she,  whan  we  flee  fro  the  hemes,* 
For  Goddes  love,  as  take  som  laxatif : 
Op  peril  of  my  soule,  and  of  my  lif, 
I  conseil  you  the  best,  I  wol  not  lie, 
That  both  of  coler,  and  of  melancolie 
Ye  purge  you ;  and  for  ye  shul  not  tarie, 
Though  in  this  toun  be  non  apotecarie, 
I  shal  myself  two  herbes  techen  you, 
That  shal  be  for  your  hele,  and  for  your  prow 
And  in  our  yerde,  the  herbes  shall  I  finde, 
The  which  han  of  hir  propretee  by  kinde 
To  purgen  you  benethe,  and  eke  above. 
Sire,  forgete  not  this  for  Goddes  love ; 
Ye  ben  ml  colerike  of  complexion ; 
"Ware  that  the  sonne  in  his  ascention 
Ne  finde  you  not  replete  of  humours  hote : 
And  if  it  do,  I  dare  wel  lay  a  grote, 
That  ye  shul  han  a  fever  tertiane, 
Or  elles  an  ague,  that  may  be  your  bane. 
A  day  or  two  ye  shul  han  digestives 
Of  wormes,  or  ye  take  your  laxatives, 
Of  laureole,  centaurie,  and  fumetere, 
Or  elles  of  ellebor,  that  groweth  there, 
Of  catapuce,3  or  of  gaitre-beries,4 
Or  herbe  ive  growing  in  our  yerd,  that  mery*  is: 
Picke  hem  right  as  they  grow,  and  ete  hem  in. 
Beth  mery,  husbond,  for  your  fader  kin ; 
Dredeth  no  dreme ;  I  can  say  you  no  more. 

Madame,  quod  he,  grand  mercy  of  your  lore. 
But  natheles,  as  touching  dan  Caton, 
That  hath  of  wisdome  swiche  a  gret  renoun, 
Though  that  he  bade  no  dremes  for  to  drede, 
By  God,  men  moun  in  olde  bookes  rede, 
Of  many  a  man,  more  of  auctoritee 
Than  ever  Caton  was,  so  mote  I  the,7 
That  all  the  revers8  sayn  of  his  sentence, 
And  han  wel  founden  by  experience, 

1  Have  no  care.  *  The  perches.  *  A  species  of  sparge. 

*  Berries  of  the  dog-wood  tree.  s  Pleasant. 

•  Advice.  7  So  may  I  thrive  8  The  contrary,  reverse. 


14985-15022.      THE  NONNES  PREESTES  TALE.  447 

That  dremes  ben  significations 
As  wel  of  joye  as  tribulations, 
That  folk  enduren  in  this  lif  present. 
Ther  nedeth  make  of  this  non  argument ; 
The  verey  preve  sheweth  it  indede. 

On  of  the  gretest  auctours1  that  men  rede, 
Saith  thus  ;  that  whilom  twey  felawes  wente 
On  pilgrimage  in  a  ful  good  entente  ; 
And  happed  bo,  they  came  into  a  toun, 
Wher  ther  was  swiche  a  congregatioun 
Of  peple,  and  eke  so  streit  of  herbergage, 
That  they  ne  founde  as  moche  as  a  cotage, 
In  which  they  bothe  might  ylogged  be : 
Wherfore  they  musten  of  necessitee, 
As  for  that  night,  departen  compagnie; 
And  eche  of  hem  goth  to  his  hostelrie, 
And  toke  his  logging  as  it  wolde  falle. 

That  on  of  hem  was  logged  in  a  stalle, 
Fer  in  a  yerd,  with  oxen  of  the  plough, 
That  other  man  was  logged  wel  ynough, 
As  was  his  aventure,  or  his  fortune, 
That  us  governeth  all,  as  in  commune. 

And  so  befell,  that,  long  or  it  were  day, 
This  man  met  in  his  bed,  ther  as  he  lay, 
How  that  his  felaw  gan  upon  him  calle, 
And  said,  alas  !  for  in  an  oxes  stalle 
This  night  shal  I  be  mordred,  ther  I  lie* 
Now  helpe  me,  dere  brother,  or  I  die  ; 
In  alle  haste  come  to  me,  he  saide. 

This  man  out  of  his  slepe  for  fere  abraide  f 
But  whan  that  he  was  waked  of  his  slepe, 
He  turned  him,  and  toke  of  this  no  kepe  ; 
Him  thought  his  dreme  was  but  a  vanitee. 
Thus  twies  in  his  sleping  dremed  he. 

And  at  the  thridde  time  yet  his  felaw 
Came,  as  him  thought,  and  said,  I  now  am  slaw : 
Behold  my  blody  woundes,  depe  and  wide. 
Arise  up  erly,  in  the  morwe  tide, 

l  Authors.  Cicero,  de  Divin.  L.  1.  c.  27,  relates  this  and  the  following 
story  ;  but  in  ;i  contrary  order ;  and  with  so  many  other  differences,  that 
one  might  be  led  to  suspect  that  he  wast  here  quoted  at  second  hand,  if 
it  were  not  usual  with  Chaucer,  in  these  stories  of  familiar  life,  to  throw 
in  a  number  of  natural  circumstances,  not  to  be  found  in  Ms  original 
authors — Tyrwhitt.  a  Awoke. 


448  THE   CANTERBURY   TALES.  15023-1 5064k 

And  at  the  "West  gate  of  the  toun  (quod  he) 

A  carte  ful  of  donge  ther  shalt  thou  see, 

In  which  my  body  is  hid  prively. 

Do  thilke  carte  arresten  boldely. 

My  gold  caused  my  mordre,  soth  to  sain. 

And  told  him  every  point  how  he  was  slain 

With  a  ful  pitous  face,  pale  of  hewe. 

And  trusteth  wel,  his  dreme  he  found  ful  trewe. 

For  on  the  morwe,  as  sone  as  it  was  day, 

To  his  felawes  inne  he  toke  his  way : 

And  whan  that  he  came  to  this  oxes  stalle, 

After  his  felaw  he  began  to  calle. 

The  hosteler  answered  him  anon, 
And  saide,  Sire,  your  felaw  is  agon, 
As  sone  as  day  he  went  out  of  the  toun. 

This  man  gan  fallen  in  suspecioun 
Remembring  on  his  dremes  that  he  mette, 
And  forth  he  goth,  no  lenger  wold  he  lette, 
Unto  the  West  gate  of  the  toun,  and  fond 
A  dong  carte,  as  it  went  for  to  dong  lond, 
That  was  arraied  in  the  same  wise 
As  ye  han  herde  the  dede  man  devise: 
And  with  an  hardy  herte  he  gan  to  crie, 
Vengeance  and  justice  of  this  felonie : 
My  felaw  mordred  is  this  same  night, 
And  in  this  carte  he  lith,  gaping  upright. 
I  crie  out  on  the  ministres,  quod  he, 
That  shulden  kepe  and  reulen  this  citee : 
Harow!  alas!  here  lith  my  felaw  slain. 

What  shuld  I  more  unto  this  tale  sain  ? 
The  peple  out  stert,  and  cast  the  cart  to  ground, 
And  in  the  middel  of  the  dong  they  found 
The  dede  man,  that  mordred  was  all  newe. 

O  blisful  God,  that  art  so  good  and  trewe, 
Lo,  how  that  thou  bewreyest  mordre  alway. 
Mordre  wol  out,  that  see  we  day  by  day. 
Mordre  is  so  wlatsom1  and  abhominable 
To  God,  that  is  so  just  and  resonable, 
That  he  ne  wol  not  suflfre  it  hylled2  be : 
"Though  it  abide  a  yere,  or  two,  or  three, 
Mordre  wol  out,  this  is  my  conclusioun. 

And  right  onon,  the  ministres  of  the  toun 

1  Loathsome.  *  Hidden. 


16065-15104.      THE  NONNES  PREESTES  TALE.  449 

Han  hent  the  carter,  and  so  sore  him  pined, 
And  eke  the  hosteler  so  sore  engined, 
That  they  beknew1  hir  wickednesse  anon, 
And  were  anhanged  by  the  necke  bon. 

Here  moun  ye  see  that  dremes  ben  to  drede. 
And  certes  in  the  same  book  I  rede, 
Eight  in  the  nexte  chapitre  after  this, 
(I  gabbe  not,  so  have  I  joye  and  blis) 
Two  men  that  wold  han  passed  over  the  see 
For  certain  cause  in  to  a  fer  contree, 
If  that  the  wind  ne  hadde  ben  contrarie, 
That  made  hem  in  a  citee  for  to  tarie, 
That  stood  ful  mery  upon  an  haven  side. 
But  on  a  day,  agein  the  even  tide, 
The  wind  gan  change,  and  blew  right  as  hem  lest. 
Jolif  and  glad  they  wenten  to  hir  rest, 
And  casten  hem  ful  erly  for  to  saile ; 
B.ut  to  that  o  man  fell  a  gret  mervaile. 

That  on  of  hem  in  sleping  as  he  lay, 
He  mette  a  wonder2  dreme,  again  the  day: 
Him  thought  a  man  stood  by  his  beddes  side, 
And  him  commanded,  that  he  shuld  abide, 
And  said  him  thus ;  if  thou  to-morwe  wende, 
Thou  shalt  be  dreint  f  my  tale  is  at  an  ende. 

He  woke,  and  told  his  felaw  what  he  met, 
And  praied  him  his  viage  for  to  let,4 
As  for  that  day,  he  prayd  him  for  to  abide. 

His  felaw  that  lay  by  his  beddes  side, 
Gan  for  to  laugh,  and  scorned  him  ful  faste. 
No  dreme,  quod  he,  may  so  my  herte  agaste, 
That  I  wol  leten  for  to  do  my  thinges. 
I  sette  not  a  straw  by  thy  dreminges, 
For  swevens  ben  but  vanitees  and  japes. 
Men  dreme  al  day  of  oules  and  of  apes, 
And  eke  of  many  a  mase  therwithal ; 
Men  dreme  of  thing  that  never  was,  ne  shah 
But  sith  I  see  that  thou  wolt  here  abide, 
And  thus  forslouthen  wilfully  thy  tide,5 
God  wot  it  reweth  me,6  and  have  good  day. 
And  thus  he  took  his  leve,  and  went  his  way. 

*  Confessed.  2  Strange. 

•  Drowned.  *  Abandon  his  journey. 
«  Wilfully  let  go  thy  opportunity.  •  I  pity  you. 

38* 


450  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         15105-15146. 

But  or  that  he  had  half  his  cours  ysailed, 
N'ot  I  not  why,  ne  what  meschance  it  ailed, 
But  casuelly  the  shippes  bottom  rente, 
And  ship  and  man  under  the  water  wente 
In  sight  of  other  shippes  ther  beside, 
That  with  him  sailed  at  the  same  tide. 

And  therfore,  faire  Pertelote  so  dere, 
By  swiche  ensamples  olde  maist  thou  lere, 
That  no  man  shulde  be  to  reccheles 
Of  dremes,  for  I  say1  thee  douteles, 
That  many  a  dreme  fid  sore  is  for  to  drede. 

Lo,  in  the  lif  of  seint  Kenelme,  I  rede, 
That  was  Kenulphus  sone,  the  noble  king 
Of  Mercenrike,  how  Kenelm  mette  a  thing. 
A  litel  or  he  were  mordred  on  a  day, 
His  mordre  in  his  avision  he  say,2 
His  norice  him  expouned3  every  del 
His  sweven,  and  bade  him  for  to  kepe  him  wel 
Fro  treson ;  but  he  n'as  but  seven  yere  old, 
And  therfore  litel  tale  hath  he  told 
Of  any  dreme,  so  holy  was  his  herte. 
By  God  I  hadde  lever  than  my  sherte, 
That  ye  had  red  his  legend,  as  have  I. 

Dame  Pertelote,  I  say  you  trewely, 
Macrobius,  that  writ  the  avision 
In  Affrike  of  the  worthy  Scipion, 
Amrmeth  dremes,  and  sayth  that  they  ben 
Warning  of  thinges,  that  men  after  seen. 

And  forthermore,  I  pray  you  loketh  wel 
In  the  olde  Testament,  of  Daniel, 
II  he  held  dremes  any  vanitee. 

Bede  eke  of  Joseph,  and  ther  shuln  ye  see 
Wher  dremes  ben  somtime  (I  say  not  alle) 
"Warning  of  thinges  that  shuln  after  falle. 

Loke  of  Egipt  the  king,  dan  Pharao, 
His  baker  and  his  boteler  also, 
Wheder  they  ne  felten  non  effect  in  dremes. 
Who  so  wol  seken  actes  of  sondry  remes,4 
May  rede  of  dremes  many  a  wonder  thing. 

Lo  Cresus,  which  that  was  of  Lydie  king, 
Mette  he  not  that  he  sat  upon  a  tree, 
Which  signified  he  shuld  anhanged  be? 

i  Tell.  '  Saw  in  a  vision. 

*  Explained.  *  Realms. 


16147-15184.      THE  NONNES  PREESTES  TALE.  451 

Lo  hire  Andromacha,1  Hectores  wif, 
That  day  that  Hector  shulde  lese  his  lif, 
She  dremed  on  the  same  night  beforne, 
How  that  the  lif  of  Hector  shuld  be  lorne, 
If  thilke  day  he  went  into  bataille : 
She  warned  him,  but  it  might  not  availle; 
He  went  forth  for  to  fighten  natheles, 
And  was  yslain  anon  of  Achilles. 

But  thilke  tale  is  al  to  long  to  telle, 
And  eke  it  is  nigh  day,  I  may  not  dwelle. 
Shortly  I  say,  as  for  conclusion, 
That  I  shal  han  of  this  avision 
Adversitee :  and  I  say  forthermore, 
That  I  ne  tell  of  laxatives  no  store, 
For  they  ben  venimous,  I  wot  it  wel: 
I  hem  deffie,  I  love  hem  never  a  del. 

But  let  us  speke  of  mirthe,  and  stinte  all  this ; 
Madame  Pertelote,  so  have  I  blis, 
Of  o  thing  God  hath  sent  me  large  grace 
For  whan  I  see  the  beautee  of  your  face, 
Ye  ben  so  scarlet  red  about  your  eyen, 
It  maketh  all  my  drede  for  to  dien, 
For,  al  so  siker  as  In  principio, 
Mulier  est  hominis  confusio. 
(Madame,  the  sentence  of  this  Latino  is, 
Woman  is  mannes  joye  and  ni amies  blis.) 
For  whan  I  fele  a-night  your  softe  side, 
Al  be  it  that  I  may  not  on  you  ride, 
For  that  our  perche  is  made  so  narwe,  alas! 
I  am  so  ful  of  joye  and  of  solas, 
That  I  deffie  bothe  sweven  and  dreme. 

And  with  that  word  he  flew  doun  fro  the  beme, 
For  it  was  day,  and  eke  his  hennes  alle ; 
And  with  a  chuk  he  gan  hem  for  to  calle, 
For  he  had  found  a  corn,  lay  in  the  yerd. 
Real2  he  was,  he  was  no  more  aferd ; 
He  fethered  Pertelote  twenty  time, 
And  trade  hire  eke  as  oft,  er  it  was  prime. 

1  We  must  not  look  for  this  dream  of  Andromache  in  Homer.  The  first 
author  who  relates  it  is  the  fictitious  Dares,  c.  xxiv.  and  Chaucer  very 
probably  took  it  from  him,  or  from  Guido  de  Columnis;  or  perhaps  from 
Benoit  de  Sainte  More,  whose  Roman  de  Troye  I  believe  to  have  been  that 
History  of  Dares,  which  Guido  professes  to  follow,  and  has  indeed  almost 
entirely  translated.— Tyrwhitt.  *  KoyaL 


452  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         15185-15222. 

He  loketh  as  it  were  a  grim  leoun ; 
And  on  his  toos  he  rometh  up  and  doun, 
Him  deigned  not  to  set  his  feet  to  ground : 
He  chukketh,  whan  he  hath  a  corn  yfound, 
And  to  him  rennen  than  his  wives  alle. 

Thus  real,  as  a  prince  is  in  his  halle, 
Leve  I  this  Chaunteclere  in  his  pasture ; 
And  after  wol  I  tell  his  aventure. 

Whan  that  the  month  in  which  the  world  began, 
That  highte  March,  whan  God  first  maked  man, 
Was  complete,  and  ypassed  were  also, 
Sithen  March  ended,  thritty  dayes  and  two, 
Befell  that  Chaunteclere  in  all  his  pride, 
His  seven  wives  walking  him  beside, 
Cast  up  his  eyen  to  the  brighte  sonne, 
That  in  the  signe  of  Taurus  had  yronne 
Twenty  degrees  and  on,  and  somwhat  more : 
He  knew  by  kind,  and  by  non  other  lore, 
That  it  was  prime,  and  crew  with  blisful  steven. 
The  sonne,  he  sayd,  is  clomben  up  on  heven 
Twenty  degrees  and  on,  and  more  ywis. 
Madame  Pertelote,  my  worldes  blis, 
Herkeneth  thise  blisful  briddes  how  they  sing, 
And  see  the  freshe  floures  how  they  spring ; 
Ful  is  min  herte  of  revel,  and  solas. 

But  sodenly  him  fell  a  sorwef ul  cas ; 
For  ever  the  latter  ende  of  joye  is  wo: 
God  wote  that  worldly  joye  is  sone  ago: 
And  if  a  rethor1  coude  faire  endite, 
He  in  a  chronicle  might  it  saufly  write, 
As  for  a  soveraine  notabilitee. 

Now  every  wise  man  let  him  herken  me: 
This  story  is  al  so  trewe,  I  undertake, 
As  is  the  book  of  Launcelot  du  lake, 
That  women  holde  in  ful  gret  reverence. 
Now  wol  I  turne  agen  to  my  sentence. 

A  col  fox,2  ful  of  sleigh  iniquitee, 
That  in  the  grove  had  wonned  yeres  three, 

1  A  rhetorician,  an  orator. 
2  Skinner  interprets  this  a  blackith  fox,  as  if  it  were  a  cole  fox.  Gl.  Urr. 
It  is  much  easier  to  refute  this  interpretation  than  to  assign  the  true  one. 
Coll  appears  from  ver.  15389  to  have  been  a  common  name  for  a  dog.  In 
composition,  it  is  to  be  taken  in  malam  partem,  but  in  what  precise  sense 
I  cannot  say.    See  Chaucer's  H.  of  F.  B.  iii.  187.  CoU-tragetour — and  in 


15223-15252.      THE  NONNES  PBEESTES  TALE.  453 

By  high  imagination  forecast, 
The  same  night  thurghout  the  hegges  brast1 
Into  the  yerd,  ther  Chaunteclere  the  faire 
Was  wont,  and  eke  his  wives,  to  repaire: 
And  in  a  bedde  ot  wortes  stille  he  lay, 
Till  it  was  passed  undern3  of  the  day, 
Waiting  his  time  on  Chaunteclere  to  falle: 
As  gladly  don  thise  homicides  alle, 
That  in  await  liggen  to  mordre  men. 

O  false  morderour,  rucking  in  thy  den! 
O  newe  Scariot,  newe  Genelon ! 
O  false  dissimulour,  o  Greek  Sinon, 
That  broughtest  Troye  al  utterly  to  sorwe ! 
O  Chaunteclere,  accursed  be  the  morwe, 
That  thou  into  thy  yerd  flew  fro  the  bemes: 
Thou  were  ful  wel  ywarned  by  thy  dremes, 
That  thilke  day  was  perilous  to  thee. 
But  what  that  God  forewote3  most  nedes  be, 
After  the  opinion  of  certain  clerkes. 
Witnesse  on  him,  that  any  parfit  clerk  is, 
That  in  scole  is  gret  altercation  | 
In  this  matere,  and  gret  disputison, 
And  hath  ben  of  an  hundred  thousand  men. 
But  I  ne  cannot  boult  it  to  the  bren,4 
As  can  the  holy  doctour  Augustin, 
Or  Boece,  or  the  bishop  Bradwardin, 
Whether  that  Goddes  worthy  f'oreweting 
Streineth  me  nedely  for  to  don  a  thing, 
(Nedely  clepe  I  simple  necessitee) 
Or  elles  if  free  chois  be  granted  me 

the  Mirr.  for  Mag.  Leg.  of  Glendour,  fol.  127.  b.  Colprophet  is  plainly  put 
for  &fahe,  lying  prophet.  Hey  wood  has  an  Epigram  Of coleprophet.  Cent 
vi.  Ep.  8  J} 

Thy  prophesy  poysonly  to  the  pricke  goth: 

Coleprophet  and  colepoyion  thou  art  both. 
And  in  his  Proverbial  Dialogues,  P.  i.  ch.  x.  he  has  the  following  lines. 

Coll  under  canstyk  she  can  plaie  on  both  hands: 

Dissimulation  well  she  understands. 
I  will  add  an  allusion  of  our  author,  in  the  Test,  of  Love,  B.  ii.  fol. 
cccxxxiii.  b.  to  a  story  of  one  Collo,  which  I  cannot  explain.    "  Busiris 
slew  e  his  gestes,  and  he  was  slain  of  Hercules  his  geste.   Hugest  betray- 
shed  many  men,  and  of  Collo  was  he  betrayed  " — Tyrvhitt. 
»  Burst.  3  The  third  hour,  nine  o'clock. 

*  Foreknew,  predestined. 

*  Sift  it  to  the  bran, «".  e.,  probe  the  truth  thoroughly. 


454  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.        15253-15294. 

To  do  that  same  thing,  or  do  it  nought, 

Though  God  forewot  it,  or  that  it  was  wrought ; 

Or  if  his  weting  streineth  never  a  del, 

But  by  necessitee  condicionel. 

I  wol  not  han  to  don  of  swiche  matere; 

My  tale  is  of  a  cok,  as  ye  may  here, 

That  took  his  conseil  of  his  wii  with  sorwe 

To  walken  in  the  yerd  upon  the  morwe, 

That  he  had  met  the  dreme,  as  I  you  told. 

Womennes  conseiles  ben  ful  often  cold ; 

Womannes  conseil  brought  us  first  to  wo, 

And  made  Adam  fro  paradis  to  go, 

Ther  as  he  was  ful  mery,  and  wel  at  ese. 

But  for  I  n'ot,  to  whom  I  might  displese, 

If  I  conseil  of  women  wolde  blame, 

Passe  over,  for  I  said  it  in  my  game. 

Bede  auctours,  wher  they  trete  of  swiche  matere, 

And  what  they  sayn  of  women  ye  mown  here. 

Thise  ben  the  Cokkes  wordes,  and  not  mine ; 

I  can  non  harme  of  no  woman  devine. 

Faire  in  the  sond,  to  bath  hire  merily, 
Lith  Pertelote,  and  all  hire  susters  by, 
Agein  the  sonne,  and  Chaunteclere  so  free 
Sang  merier  than  the  Mermaid  in  the  see, 
For  Phisiologus1  sayth  sikerly, 
How  that  they  singen  wel  and  merily. 

And  so  befell  that  as  he  cast  his  eye 
Among  the  wortes  on  a  boterflie, 
He  was  ware  of  this  fox  that  lay  ful  low. 
Nothing  ne  list  him  thanne  for  to  crow, 
But  cried  anon  cok,  cok,  and  up  he  sterte, 
As  man  that  was  afFraied  in  his  herte. 
For  naturellya  beest  desireth  flee 
Fro  his  contrarie,  if  he  may  it  see, 
Though  he  never  erst  had  seen  it  with  his  eye. 

This  Chaunteclere,  whan  he  gan  him  espie, 
He  wold  han  fled,  but  that  the  fox  anon 
Said ;  gentil  sire,  alas  !  what  wol  ye  don  1 
Be  ye  aflraid  of  me  that  am  your  frend  ? 
Now  certes,  I  were  werse  than  any  fend, 
If  I  to  you  wold  harme  or  vilanie. 
I  n'am  not  come  your  conseil  to  espie. 

1  Probably  an  allusion  to  an  old  book  entitled  "  Physiologus  de  naturU 
xii.  animalium." 


15295-15322.      THE  NONNES  PBEESTE3  TALE.  455 

But  trewely  the  cause  of  my  coming 
"Was  only  for  to  herken  how  ye  sing: 
For  trewely  ye  han  as  mery  a  steven,1 
As  any  angel  hath,  that  is  in  heven ; 
Therwith  ye  han  of  musike  more  leling, 
Than  had  Boece,2  or  any  that  can  sing. 
My  lord  your  fader  (God  his  soule  blesse) 
And  eke  your  moder  of  hire  gentillesse 
Han  in  myn  hous  yben,  to  my  gret  ese: 
And  certes,  sire,  ful  fain  wold  I  you  plese. 
But  for  men  speke  of  singing,  I  wol  sey, 
So  mote  I  brouken  wel  min  eyen  twey, 
Save  you,  ne  herd  I  never  man  so  sing, 
As  did  your  fader  in  the  morwening. 
Certes  it  was  of  herte  all  that  he  song. 
And  for  to  make  his  vois  the  more  strong, 
He  wold  so  peine  him,  that  with  both  his  eyen 
He  muste  winke,  so  loud  he  wolde  crien, 
And  stonden  on  his  tiptoon  therwithal, 
And  stretchen  forth  his  necke  long  and  smal. 
And  eke  he  was  of  swiche  discretion, 
That  ther  n'as  no  man  in  no  region, 
That  him  in  song  or  wisdom  mighte  passe. 
1  have  wel  red  in  dan  Burnel  the  asse3 
Among  his  vers,  how  that  ther  was  a  cok, 
That,  for  a  preestes  sone  yave  him  a  knok 
Upon  his  leg,  while  he  was  yonge  and  nice, 
He  made  him  for  to  lese  his  benefice. 

1  Voice.  a  Boettaius  wrote  an  elaborate  treatise  "  de  Musica." 

*  The  story  alluded  to  is  in  a  poem  of  Nigel  Wireker,  entitled. 
Surnellus,  leu  Speculum  ttultorum,  written  in  the  time  of  Richard  I.  The 
story  supposes,  that  the  priest's  son,  when  he  was  to  be  ordained,  directed 
bis  servant  to  call  him  at  cock-crowing,  and  that  the  cock,  whose  leg  he 
bad  formerly  broken,  having  overheard  this,  purposely  refrained  from 
crowing  at  his  usual  time;  by  which  artifice  the  young  man  was  suffered 
to  sleep  till  the  ordination  was  over. 

Burnell  is  used  as  a  nickname  for  the  ass  in  the  Chester  Whitsun  Playes. 
MS.  Ilarl.  201 3.    See  the  note  on  ver.  3539.    In  the  pageant  of  Balaam, 
he  says- 
Go  forth,  Burnell,  go  forth,  go. 
What  ?  the  devil,  my  asse  will  not  go. 
and  again,  fol.  86.  b. 

Burnell,  why  begilest  thou  me  ? 
The  original  word  was,  probably,  Brunei!,  from  its  brown  colour;  as  the 
Fox  below,  ver.  15310,  is  called  RuueU,  from  bis  red  colour,  I  suppose. 
— TyrwhiU. 


456  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         15323-15358. 

But  certain  ther  is  no  comparison 
Betwix  the  wisdom  and  discretion 
Of  youre  fader,  and  his  suhtilitee. 
Now  singeth,  sire,  for  Seinte  Charitee, 
Let  see,  can  ye  your  fader  contrefete  1 

This  Chaunteclere  his  winges  gan  to  bete, 
As  man  that  coud  not  his  treson  espie, 
So  was  he  ravished  with  his  flaterie. 

Alas !  ye  lordes,  many  a  false  flatour 
Is  in  your  court,  and  many  a  losengeour,1 
That  pleseth  you  wel  more,  by  my  faith, 
Than  he  that  sothfastnesse-  unto  you  saith. 
Redeth  Ecclesiast  of  flaterie, 
Beth  ware,  ye  lordes,  of  hire  trecherie. 

This  Chaunteclere  stood  high  upon  his  toos 
Stretching  his  necke,  and  held  his  eyen  cloos, 
And  gan  to  crowen  loude  for  the  nones : 
And  dan  Bussel3  the  fox  stert  up  at  ones, 
And  by  the  gargat  hente4  Chaunteclere, 
And  on  his  back  toward  the  wood  him  here. 
For  yet  ne  was  ther  no  man  that  him  sued. 

O  destinee,  that  maist  not  ben  eschued ! 
Alas,  that  Chaunteclere  flew  fro  the  hemes ! 
Alas,  his  wif  ne  raughte5  not  of  dremes ! 
And  on  a  Friday  fell  all  this  meschance. 

O  Venus,  that  art  goddesse  of  plesance, 
Sin  that  thy  servant  was  this  Chaunteclere, 
And  in  thy  service  did  all  his  powere, 
More  for  delit,  than  world  to  multiplie, 
Why  wolt  thou  suffre  him  on  thy  day  to  die  ? 

O  Gaufride,6  dere  maister  soverain, 
That,  whan  thy  worthy  king  Richard  was  slain 
With  shot,  complainedest  his  deth  so  sore, 
Why  ne  had  I  now  thy  science  and  thy  lore, 
The  Friday  for  to  chiden,  as  did  ye  ? 
(For  on  a  Friday  sothly  slain  was  he) 
Than  wold  I  shew  you  how  that  I  coud  plaine, 
For  Chauntecleres  drede,  and  for  his  paine. 

*  Flatterer.  >  The  plain  truth. 

3  So  called  from  his  red  colour. 

4  Seized  by  the  gorget,  or  throat.  8  Thought. 

6  He  alludes  to  a  passage  in  the  Kova  Poetria  of  Geoffrey  de  Vinsauf, 
published  not  long  after  the  death  of  Richard  I.    In  this  work  the 


15350—15388.      THE  NONNES  PREESTES  TALE.  457 

Certes  swiche  cry,  ne  lamentation 
N'as  never  of  ladies  made,  whan  Ilion 
Was  wonne,  and  Pirrus  with  his  streite  swerd 
Whan  he  had  hent  king  Priam  by  the  berd, 
And  slain  him,  (as  saith  us  Eneidoa)1 
As  maden  all  the  hennes  in  the  cloos, 
Whan  they  had  seen  of  Chaunteclere  the  sight. 
But  soverainly  dame  Pertelote  shright, 
Ful  louder  than  did  Hasdruballes  wif, 
Whan  that  hire  husbond  hadde  ylost  his  lif, 
And  that  the  Ptomaines  hadden  brent  Cartage, 
She  was  so  ful  of  turment  and  of  rage, 
That  wilfully  into  the  fire  she  sterte, 
And  brent  hireselven  with  a  stedfast  herte. 

O  woful.  hennes,  right  so  criden  ye, 
As,  whan  that  Nero  brente  the  citee 
Of  Rome,  cried  the  senatoures  wives, 
For  that  hir  husbonds  losten  alle  hir  lives; 
Withouten  gilt  this  Nero  hath  hem  slain. 

Now  wol  I  turne  unto  my  tale  again. 
The  sely8  widewe,  and  hire  doughtren  two, 
Herden  thise  hennes  crie  and  maken  wo, 
And  out  at  the  dores  sterten  they  anon, 
And  saw  the  fox  toward  the  wode  is  gon, 
And  bare  upon  his  back  the  cok  away: 
They  crieden,  out !  harow  and  wala  wa ! 
A  ha  the  fox  !  and  after  him  they  ran, 
And  eke  with  staves  many  another  man; 

author  has  not  only  given  instructions  for  composing  in  the  different 
styles  of  Poetry,  but  also  examples.  His  specimen  of  the  plaintive  kind 
Of  composition  begins  thus  :— 

Neustria,  sub  clypeo  regis  defensa  Ricardi, 
Indefensa  modo,  gestu  testare  dolorem. 
Exundent  oculi  lacrymas ;  exterminet  ora 
Pallor;  connodef  digitos  tortura;  cruentet 
Interior  a  dolor,  et  verberet  aethera  clamor : 
Tota  peris  ex  morte  sua.    Mors  non  fuit  ejus, 
Sed  tua ;  non  una,  sed  publica  mortis  origo. 
0  Venerii  lacrymota  diet  I  o  sydus  amarum ! 
Ilia  dies  tua  nox  fuit,  et  Venus  ilia  venenum. 
Ilia  dedit  vuluus,  &c. 

rhese  lines  are  sufficient  to  shew  the  object,  and  the  propriety,  of 
Chaucer's  ridicule.  The  whole  poem  is  printed  in  Leysert  Uut.  Po. 
Me4.  JEvi.  p.  862— 978.— Tyrwhitt. 

»  /. «.,  Virgil.  *  Harmless. 

39 


458  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         15389-15*26. 

Ran  Colle  our  dogge,  and  Talbot,  and  Gerlond, 

And  Malkin,  with  hire  distaf  in  hire  hond ; 

Ran  cow  and  calf,  and  eke  the  veray  hogges 

So  fered  were  for  berking  of  the  dogges, 

And  shouting  of  the  men  and  women  eke, 

They  ronnen  so,  hem  thought  hir  hertes  breke. 

They  yelleden  as  fendes  don  in  helle : 

The  dokes  crieden  as  men  wold  hem  quelle: 

The  gees  for  lere  flewen  over  the  trees, 

Out  of  the  hive  came  the  swarme  of  bees, 

So  bidous  was  the  noise,  a  benedicite  ! 

Certes  he  Jakke  Straw,1  and  his  meinie, 

Ne  maden  never  shoutes  half  so  shrille, 

Whan  that  they  wolden  any  Fleming  kille, 

As  thilke  day  was  made  upon  the  fox. 

Of  bras  they  broughten  beemes  and  of  box, 

Of  horn  and  bone,  in  which  they  blew  and  pouped, 

And  therwithal  they  shriked  and  they  houped ; 

It  semed,  as  that  the  heven  shulde  falle. 

Now,  goode  men,  I  pray  you  herkeneth  alle ; 
Lo,  how  fortune  turneth  sodenly 
The  hope  and  pride  eke  of  hire  enemy. 
This  cok  that  lay  upon  the  foxes  bake, 
In  all  his  drede,  unto  the  fox  he  spake, 
And  sayde ;  sire,  if  that  I  were  as  ye, 
Yet  wolde  I  sayn,  (as  wisly  Ood  helpe  me) 
Turneth  agein,  ye  proude  cherles  alle; 
A  veray  pestilence  upon  you  falle. 
Now  am  I  come  unto  the  wodes  side, 
Maugre  your  hed,  the  cok  shal  here  abide ; 
I  wol  him  ete  in  faith,  and  that  anon. 

The  fox  answered,  in  faith  it  shal  be  don: 
And  as  he  spake  the  word,  al  sodenly 
The  cok  brake  from  his  mouth  deliverly, 
And  high  upon  a  tree  he  flew  anon. 

And  whan  the  fox  saw  that  the  cok  was  gon, 
Alas !  quod  he,  o  Chaunteclere,  alas  ! 
I  have  (quod  he)  ydon  to  you  trespas, 

1  The  noise  made  by  the  followers  of  this  rebel,  to  which  our  author 
alludes,  he  had  probably  heard  himself.  It  is  called  by  Walsinghara, 
p.  251,  clamor  horrendissimus,  non  similit  clamoribut  quo*  edere  talent 
homines,  ted  qui  ultra  omnem  astimatiunem  tuperaret  omnes  clamoret 
kumanot,  et  maxime  posset  auimulari  ululatibui  infernalium  incolarum.—- 
Tyrwhitt,  gl. 


15427-15468.      THE  NONNES  PKEESTE3  TALE.  459 

In  as  moche  as  I  maked  you  aferd, 

Whan  I  you  hente,  and  brought  out  of  your  yerd ; 

But,  sire,  I  did  it  in  no  wikke  entente : 

Come  douu,  and  I  shal  tell  you  what  I  mente. 

I  shal  say  sothe  to  you,  God  helpe  me  so. 

Nay  than,  quod  he,  I  shrewe  us  bothe  two. 
And  first  I  shrewe  myself,  bothe  blood  and  bones, 
If  thou  begile  me  oftener  than  ones. 
Thou  shalt  no  more  thurgh  thy  flaterie 
Do  me  to  sing  and  winken  with  myn  eye. 
For  he  that  winketh,  whan  he  shulde  see, 
Al  wilfully,  God  let  him  never  the. 

Nay,  quod  the  fox,  but  God  yeve  him  meschance 
That  is  so  indiscrete  of  governance, 
That  jangleth,  whan  that  he  shuld  hold  his  pees. 

Lo,  which  it  is  for  to  be  reccheles 
And  negligent,  and  trust  on  flaterie. 
But  ye  that  holden  this  tale  a  folie, 
As  ot  a  fox,  or  of  a  cok,  or  hen, 
Taketh  the  moralitee  therof,  good  men. 
For  Seint  Poule  sayth,  That  all  that  writen  is, 
To  our  doctrine  it  is  y  written  ywis. 
Taketh  the  fruit,  and  let  the  chaf  be  stille. 

Now,  goode  God,  if  that  it  be  thy  wille, 
As  sayth  my  Lord,  so  make  us  all  good  men ; 
And  bring  us  to  thy  highe  blisse.    Amen. 

Sire  Nonnes  Preest,  our  hoste  sayd  anon, 
Yblessed  be  thy  breche  and  every  ston ; 
This  was  a  mery  tale  of  Chaunteclere. 
But  by  my  trouthe,  if  thou  were  seculere, 
Thou  woldest  ben  a  tredefoule  a  right: 
For  if  thou  have  corage  as  thou  hast  might, 
Thee  were  nede  of  hennes,  as  I  wene, 
Ye  mo  than  seven  times  seventene. 
Se,  whiche  braunes  hath  this  gentil  preest, 
So  gret  a  necke,  and  swiche  a  large  breestl 
He  loketh  as  a  sparhauk  with  his  eyen; 
Him  nedeth  not  his  colour  for  to  dien 
"With  Brasil,  ne  with  grain  of  Portingale. 

But,  sire,  faire  falle  you  for  your  tale. 
And  after  that,  he  with  ful  mery  chere 
Sayd  to  another,  as  ye  shulen  here. 


460 

%\t  Sttatib  Daunts  $  al*. 

15469-15496. 


•The  ministre  and  the  norice  unto  vices, 

Which  that  men  clepe  in  English  idelnesse, 

That  porter  at  the  gate  is  of  delices, 

To  eschuen,  and  by  hire  contrary  hire  oppresse, 

That  is  to  sain,  by  leful  besinesse, 

Wei  oughte  we  to  don  al  our  entente, 

Lest  that  the  fend  thurgh  idelnesse  us  hente. 

For  he  that  with  his  thousand  cordes  slie 
Continuelly  us  waiteth  to  beclappe, 
Whan  he  may  man  in  idelnesse  espie, 
He  can  so  lightly  cacche  him  in  his  trappe, 
Til  that  a  man  be  hent  right  by  the  lappe,1 
He  n'is  not  ware  the  fend  hath  him  in  hond: 
Wei  ought  us  werche,  and  idelnesse  withstand. 

And  though  men  dradden  never  for  to  die, 
Yet  see  men  wel  by  reson  douteles, 
That  idelnesse  is  rote  of  slogardie, 
Of  which  ther  never  cometh  no  good  encrees, 
And  see  that  slouthe  holdeth  hem  in  a  lees,2 
Only  to  slepe,  and  for  to  ete  and  drinke, 
And  to  devouren  all  that  other  swinke. 

And  for  to  put  us  from  swiche  idelnesse, 
That  cause  is  of  so  gret  confusion, 
I  have  here  don  my  feithtul  besinesse 
After  the  Legende  in  translation 
Right  of  thy  glorious  lit  and  passion, 
Thou  with  thy  gerlond,  wrought  of  rose  and  lilie, 
Thee  mene  I,  maid  and  martir  Seinte  Cecilie. 

i  Skirt.  •  Leash. 


15497-15531.        THE  SECOND  NONNES  TALE.  461 

And  thou,  that  arte  floure  of  virgines  all, 
Of  whom  that  Bernard  list  so  wel  to  write, 
To  thee  at  my  beginning  first  I  call, 
Thou  comfort  of  us  wretches,  do  me  endite 
Thy  maidens  deth,  that  wan  thurgh  hire  merite 
The  eternal  lif,  and  over  the  fend  victorie, 
As  man  may  after  reden  in  hire  storie. 


Thou  maide  and  mother,  doughter  of  thy  son, 
Thou  well  of  mercy,  sinful  soules  cure, 
In  whom  that  God  of  bountee  chees  to  won ; 
Thou  humble  and  high  over  every  creature, 
Thou  nobledest  so  fer  forth  our  nature, 
That  no  desdaine  the  maker  had  of  kinde 
His  son  in  blood  and  flesh  to  clothe  and  winde. 

Within  the  cloystre  blisful  of  thy  sides, 
Toke  mannes  shape  the  eternal  love  and  pees, 
That  of  the  trine  compas  Lord  and  gide  is, 
Whom  erthe,  and  see,  and  heven  out  of  relees* 
Ay  herien  f  and  thou,  virgine  wemmeles,3 
Bare  of  thy  body  (and  dweltest  miiden  pure) 
The  creatour  of  every  creature. 

Assembled  is  in  thee  magnificence 
With  mercy,  goodnesse,  and  with  swiche  pitee, 
That  thou,  that  art  the  sonne  of  excellence, 
Not  only  helpest  hem  that  praien  thee, 
But  oftentime  of  thy  benignitee 
Ful  freely,  or  that  men  thin  helpe  beseche, 
Thou  goest  beforne,  and  art  hir  lives  leche. 

Now  helpe,  thou  meke  and  blisful  faire  maide, 
Me  flemed4  wretch,  in  this  desert  of  galle  ; 
Thinke  on  the  woman  Cananee,  that  saide 
That  whelpes  eten  som  of  the  cromes  aile 
That  from  hir  Lordes  table  ben  yfalle ; 
And  though  that  I,  unworthy  sone  of  Eve, 
Be  sinful,  yet  accepteth  my  beleve. 

»  Without  ceasing.  ■  Praise. 

*  Spotless.  *  Banished. 

39* 


462  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  15532-15569. 

And  for  that  feith  is  ded  withouten  werkes, 
So  for  to  werken  yeve  me  wit  and  space, 
That  I  be  quit  from  thennes1  that  most  derke  is 
O  thou,  that  art  so  faire  and  ful  of  grace, 
Be  thou  min  advocat  in  that  high  place, 
Ther  as  withouten  ende  is  songe  Osanne, 
Thou  Cristes  mother,  doughter  dere  of  Anne. 

And  of  thy  light  my  soule  in  prison  light, 
That  troubled  is  by  the  contagion 
Of  my  body,  and  also  by  the  -wight 
Of  erthly  lust,  and  false  affection: 
O  haven  of  refute,2  o  salvation 
Of  hem  that  ben  in  sorwe  and  in  distresse, 
Now  help,  for  to  my  werk  I  wol  me  dresse. 

Yet  pray  I  you  that  reden  that  I  write, 
Foryeve  me,  that  I  do  no  diligence 
This  ilke  storie  subtilly  to  endite. 
For  both  have  I  the  wordes  and  sentence 
Of  him,  that  at  the  seintes  reverence 
The  storie  wrote,  and  folowed  hire  legende, 
And  pray  you  that  ye  wol  my  werk  amende. 

First  wol  I  you  the  name  of  Seinte  Cecilia 
Expoune,  as  men  may  in  hire  storie  see; 
It  is  to  sayn  in  English,  Hevens  lilie, 
For  pure  chastnesse  of  virginitee, 
Or  for  she  whitnesse  had  of  honestee, 
And  grene  of  conscience,  and  of  good  fame 
The  swote3  savour,  Lilie  was  hire  name. 

Or  Cecilie  is  to  sayn,  the  way  to  blinde, 
For  she  ensample  was  by  good  teching; 
Or  elles  Cecilie,  as  I  writen  finde, 
Is  joined  by  a  maner  conjoining 
Of  heven  and  Lia,  and  here  in  figuring 
The  heven  is  set  for  thought  of  holinesse, 
And  Lia,  for  hire  lasting  besinesse. 

Cecilie  may  eke  be  sayd  in  this  manere, 
Wanting  of  blindnesse,  for  hire  grete  light 
Of  sapience,  and  for  hire  thewes4  clere. 

*  Thence, »'. «.,  from  that  place.  8  Refuge. 

3  Sweet.  *  Manners,  qualities. 


15570-15608.       THE  SECOND  NONNES  TALE.  463 

Or  elles  lo,  this  maidens  name  bright 
Of  heven  and  Leos  cometh,  for  which  by  right 
Men  might  hire  wel  the  heven  ot  peple  calle, 
Ensample  of  good  and  wise  werkes  alle : 

For  Leos  peple  in  English  is  to  say; 
And  right  as  men  may  in  the  heven  see 
The  sonne  and  mone,  and  sterres  every  way, 
Bight  so  men  gostly,  in  this  maiden  free 
Sawen  of  faith  the  magnanimitee, 
And  eke  the  clerenesse  hole  of  sapience, 
And  sondry  werkes,  bright  of  excellence. 

And  right  so  as  thise  Philosophres  write, 
That  heven  is  swift  and  round,  and  eke  brenning, 
Eight  so  was  faire  Cecilie  the  white 
Ful  swift  and  besy  in  every  good  werking, 
And  round  and  hole  in  good  persevering, 
And  brenning  ever  in  charitee  ful  bright: 
Now  have  I  you  declared  what  she  hight. 

This  maiden  bright  Cecile,  as  hire  lif  saith, 
Was  come  of  Bomaines  and  of  noble  kind, 
And  from  hire  cradle  fostred  in  the  faith 
Of  Crist,  and  bare  his  Gospel  in  hire  mind: 
She  never  cesed,  as  I  writen  find, 
Of  hire  prayere,  and  God  to  love  and  drede, 
Beseching  him  to  kepe  hire  maidenhede. 

And  whan  this  maiden  shuld  until  a  man 
Ywedded  be,  that  was  ful  yonge  of  age, 
Which  that  ycleped  was  Valerian, 
And  day  was  comen  of  hire  marriage, 
She  ful  devout  and  humble  in  hire  corage, 
Under  hire  robe  of  gold,  that  sat  ful  faire, 
Had  next  hire  flesh  yclad  hire  in  an  haire. 

And  while  that  the  organs  maden  molodie, 
To  God  alone  thus  in  hire  hert  song  she; 
O  Lord,  my  soule  and  eke  my  body  gie 
Unwemmed,  lest  that  I  confounded  be. 
And  for  his  love  that  died  upon  the  tree, 
Every  second  or  thridde  day  she  fast, 
Ay  bidding  in  hire  orisons  ful  fast. 


464  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  15609-15647. 

The  night  came,  and  to  bedde  must  she  gon 
With  hire  husbond,  as  it  is  the  manere, 
And  prively  she  said  to  him  anon ; 

0  swete  and  wel  beloved  spouse  dere, 
Ther  is  a  conseil,  and  ye  wol  it  here, 
Which  that  right  fayn  I  wold  unto  you  sale, 
So  that  ye  swere,  ye  wol  it  not  bewraie. 

Valerian  gan  fast  unto  hire  swere, 
That  for  no  cas,  ne  thing  that  mighte  be, 
He  shulde  never  to  non  bewraien  here ; 
And  than  at  erst  thus  to  him  saide  she ; 

1  have  an  Angel  which  that  loveth  me, 
That  with  gret  love,  wher  so  I  wake  or  slepe^ 
Is  redy  ay  my  body  for  to  kepe; 

And  if  that  he  may  felen  out  of  drede, 
That  ye  me  touch  or  love  in  vilanie, 
He  right  anon  wol  sleen  you  with  the  dede, 
And  in  your  youthe  thus  ye  shulden  die. 
And  if  that  ye  in  clene  love  me  gie, 
He  wol  you  love  as  me,  for  your  clenenesse, 
And  shew  to  you  his  joy e  and  his  brightnesse. 

This  Valerian,  corrected  as  God  wold, 
Answerd  again,  if  I  shal  trusten  thee, 
Let  me  that  angel  seen,  and  him  behold; 
And  if  that  it  a  veray  angel  be, 
Than  wol  I  don  as  thou  hast  prayed  me ; 
And  it  thou  love  another  man,  forsothe 
Eight  with  this  swerd  than  wol  I  slee  you  bothe. 

Cecile  answerd  anon  right  in  this  wise ; 
If  that  you  list,  the  angel  shul  ye  see, 
So  that  ye  trowe  on  Crist,  and  you  baptise; 
Goth  forth  to  Via  Apia  (quod  she) 
That  fro  this  toun  ne  stant  but  miles  three, 
And  to  the  poure  folkes  that  ther  dwellen 
Say  hem  right  thus,  as  that  I  shal  you  tellea. 

Tell  hem,  that  I  Cecile  you  to  hem  sent 
To  shewen  you  the  good  Urban  the  old, 
For  secree  nedes,  and  for  good  entent; 
And  whan  that  ye  Seint  Urban  ban  behold, 


15648-15685.       THE  SECOND  NONNES  TALE.  465 

Tell  him  the  wordes  whiche  I  to  you  told ; 
And  whan  that  he  hath  purged  you  fro  sinne, 
Than  shal  ye  seen  that  angel  er  ye  twinne.1 

Valerian  is  to  the  place  gon, 
And  right  as  he  was  taught  by  hire  lerning, 
He  fond  this  holy  old  Urban  anon 
Among  the  seintes  buriels  louting:2 
And  he  anon  withouten  tarying 
Did  his  message,  and  whan  that  he  it  tolde, 
Urban  for  joye  his  hondes  gan  upholde 

The  teres  from  his  eyen  let  he  falle ; 
Almighty  Lord,  o  Jesu  Crist,  quod  he, 
Sower  of  chast  conseil,  hierde3  ot  us  alle, 
The  fruit  of  thilke  seed  of  chastitee 
That  thou  hast  sow  in  Cecile,  take  to  thee: 
Lo,  like  a  besy  bee  withouten  gile 
Thee  serveth  ay  thin  owen  thral4  Cecile. 

For  thilke  spouse,  that  she  toke  but  newe 
Ful  like  a  fiers  leon,  she  sendeth  here 
As  meke  as  ever  was  any  lambe  to  ewe. 
And  with  that  word  anon  ther  gan  apere 
An  old  man,  clad  in  white  clothes  clere, 
That  had  a  book  with  lettres  of  gold  in  hond, 
And  gan  beforne  Valerian  to  stond. 

Valerian,  as  ded,  fell  doun  for  drede, 
Whan  he  him  saw ;  and  he  up  hent  him  tho, 
And  on  his  book  right  thus  he  gan  to  rede; 
On  Lord,  on  faith,  on  God  withouten  mo, 
On  Cristendom,  and  fader  of  all  also 
Aboven  all,  and  over  all  every  wher: 
Thise  wordes  all  with  gold  ywriten  were. 

Whan  this  was  red,  than  said  this  olde  man, 
Levest  thou  this  thing  or  no  ?  say  ye  or  nay. 
I  leve  all  this  thing,  quod  Valerian, 
For  sother5  thing  than  this,  I  dare  wel  say, 
Under  the  heven  no  wight  thinken  may. 
Tho  vanished  the  olde  man,  he  n'iste  wher, 
And  pope  Urban  him  cristened  right  ther. 

>  Depart.  a  Kneeling. 

» Shepherd.  *  Servant  *  Truer. 


466  THE  CAOTERBUBY  TALES.        15686-16723. 

Valerian  goth  home,  and  fint1  Cecilie 
Within  his  chambre  with  an  angel  stonde: 
This  angel  had  of  roses  and  of  lilie 
Corones  two,  the  which  he  bare  in  honde, 
And  first  to  Cecile,  as  I  nnderstonde, 
He  yaf  that  on,  and  after  gan  he  take 
That  other  to  Valerian  hire  make. 

With  body  clene,  and  with  nnwemmed'  thought 
Kepeth  ay  wel  thise  corones  two,  quod  he, 
From  paradis  to  you  I  have  hem  brought* 
Ne  never  mo  ne  shul  they  roten  be, 
Ne  lese  hir  swete  savour,  trusteth  me, 
Ne  never  wight  shal  seen  hem  with  his  eye, 
But  he  be  chaste,  and  hate  vilanie. 

And  thou,  Valerian,  for  thou  so  sone 
Assentedest  to  good  conseil,  also 
Say  what  thee  list,  and  thou  shalt  han  thy  bone. 
I  have  a  brother,  quod  Valerian  tho, 
That  in  this  world  I  love  no  man  so, 
I  pray  you  that  my  brother  may  have  grace 
To  know  the  trouth,  as  I  do  in  this  place. 

The  angel  sayd ;  God  liketh  thy  request, 
And  bothe  with  the  palme  of  martirdome 
Ye  shullen  come  unto  his  blisful  rest. 
And  with  that  word,  Tiburce  his  brother  come. 
And  whan  that  he  the  savour  undernome, 
Which  that  the  roses  and  the  lilies  cast, 
Within  his  herte  he  gan  to  wonder  fast, 

And  said ;  I  wonder  this  time  of  the  yere 
Whennes  that  swete  savour  cometh  so 
Of  roses  and  lilies,  that  I  smelle  here ; 
For  though  I  had  hem  in  min  hondes  two, 
The  savour  might  in  me  no  deper  go : 
The  swete  smel,  that  in  min  herte  I  find, 
Hath  changed  me  all  in  another  kind. 

Valerian  saide ;  two  corones  han  we 
Snow-white  and  rose-red,  that  shinen  clere, 
Which  that  thin  eyen  han  no  might  to  see 

I  Found.  3  Unblemished. 


15724—157C2.       THE  8EC0ND  NONNES  TALE.  467 

And  as  thou  smellest  hem  thurgh  my  praiere, 
So  shalt  thou  seen  hem,  leve  brother  dere, 
If  it  so  be  thou  wolt  withouten  slouthe 
Beleve  aright,  and  know  the  veray  trouthe. 

Tiburce  answered ;  saiest  thou  this  to  ma 
In  sothnesse,  or  in  dreme  herken  I  this? 
In  dremes,  quod  Valerian,  han  we  be 
Unto  this  time,  brother  min,  ywis: 
But  now  at  erst  in  trouthe  our  dwelling  is. 
How  wost  thou  this,  quod  Tiburce,  in  what  wise  ? 
Quod  Valerian ;  that  shal  I  thee  devise. 

The  angel  of  God  hath  me  the  trouth  ytaught^ 
Which  thou  shalt  seen,  if  that  thou  wilt  reney 
The  idoles,  and  be  clene,  and  elles  naught. 
[And  of  the  miracle  of  thise  corones  twey 
Seint  Ambrose  in  his  preface  list  to  seyj 
Solempnely  this  noble  doctour  dere 
Commendeth  it,  and  saith  in  this  manere. 

The  palme  of  martirdome  for  to  receive, 
Seinte  Cecilie,  fulfilled  of  Goddes  yeft,1 
The  world  and  eke  hire  chambre  gali  she  vreive? 
Witnesse  Tiburces  and  Ceciles  shrift, 
To  which  God  of  his  bountee  wolde  shift 
Corones  two,  of  floures  wel  smelling, 
And  made  his  angel  hem  the  corones  bring. 

The  maid  hath  brought  thise  men  to  blisse  above  ; 
The  world  hath  wist  what  it  is  worth  certain 
Devotion  of  chastitee  to  love.] 
Tho  shewed  him  Cecile  all  open  and  plain, 
That  all  idoles  n'is  but  a  thing  in  vain, 
For  they  ben  dombe,  and  therto  they  ben  deve, 
And  charged  him  his  idoles  for  to  leve. 

Who  so  that  troweth  not  this,  a  best  he  is, 
Quod  this  Tiburce,  if  that  I  shal  not  lie. 
And  she  gan  kisse  his  brest  whan  she  herd  this, 
And  was  ful  glad  he  coude  trouth  espie; 
This  day  I  take  thee  for  min  allie, 
Saide  this  blisful  faire  maiden  dere ; 
And  after  that  she  said  as  ye  may  here. 

»  Gift  a  Waif* 


468  THE  CANTEBBUBY  TALES.         15703-15800. 

Lo,  right  so  as  the  love  of  Crist  (quod  she) 
Made  me  thy  brothers  wif,  right  in  that  wis© 
Anon  for  mine  allie  here  take  I  thee, 
Sithen  that  thou  wolt  thin  idoles  despise. 
Goth  with  thy  brother  now  and  thee  baptise, 
And  make  thee  clene,  so  that  thou  maist  behold 
The  angels  face,  of  which  thy  brother  told. 

Tiburce  answered,  and  saide ;  brother  dere, 
First  tell  me  whither  I  shal,  and  to  what  man. 
To  whom  1  quod  he  ;  come  forth  with  goode  chere, 
I  wol  thee  lede  unto  the  pope  Urban. 
To  Urban?  brother  min  Valerian, 
Quod  tho  Tiburce,  wilt  thou  me  thider  lede  1 
Me  thinketh  that  it  were  a  wonder  dede. 

Ne  menest  thou  not  Urban  (quod  he  tho) 
That  is  so  often  damned1  to  be  ded, 
And  woneth  in  halkes2  alway  to  and  fro, 
And  dare  not  ones  putten  forth  his  hed  1 
Men  shuld  him  brennen  in  a  fire  so  red, 
If  he  were  found,  or  that  men  might  him  spie, 
And  we  also^to  bere  him  compagnie. 

And  while  we  seken  thilke  divinitee, 
That  is  yhid  in  heven  prively, 
Algate3  ybrent  in  this  world  shuld  we  be. 
To  whom  Cecile  answered  boldely ; 
Men  mighten  dreden  wel  and  skilfully 
This  lif  to  lese,  min  owen  dere  brother, 
If  this  were  living  only  and  non  other. 

But  ther  is  better  lif  in  other  place, 
That  never  shal  be  lost,  ne  drede  thee  nought: 
Which  Goddes  sone  us  tolde  thurgh  his  grace, 
That  fadres  sone  which  alle  thinges  wrought; 
And  all  that  wrought  is  with  a  skilful  thought, 
The  gost,  that  from  the  fader  gan  procede, 
Hath  souled  hem4  withouten  any  drede. 

By  word  and  by  miracle  he  Goddes  sone, 
Whan  he  was  in  this  world,  declared  here, 
That  ther  is  other  lif  ther  men  may  wone. 

>  Condemned.  a  Dwelleth  in  corners,  hiding-place9. 

*  By  all  means.  *  Endued  them  with  a  soul. 


15801-15837.        THE  SECOND  KONNES  TALE.  4C9 

To  whom  answerd  Tiburce ;  o  suster  dere, 
Ne  saidest  thou  right  now  in  this  manere, 
Ther  n'as  but  o  God,  lord  in  sothfastnesse, 
And  now  ol  three  how  mayst  thou  bere  witnesse? 

That  shal  I  tell,  quod  she,  or  that  I  go. 
Bight  as  a  man  hath  sapiences  three, 
Memorie,  engine,  and  intellect  also, 
So  in  o  being  of  divinitee 
Three  persones  mowen  ther  righte  wel  be. 
Tho  gan  she  him  ful  besily  to  preche 
Of  Cristes  sonde,1  and  of  his  peines  teche, 

And  many  pointes  of  his  passion ; 
How  Goddes  sone  in  this  world  was  withhold 
To  don  mankinde  pleine  remission, 
That  was  ybound  in  sinne  and  cares  cold. 
All  this  thing  she  unto  Tiburce  told, 
And  after  this  Tiburce  in  good  entent, 
With  Valerian  to  pope  Urban  he  went, 

That  thanked  God,  and  with  glad  herte  and  light 
He  cristened  him,  and  made  him  in  that  place 
Parfite  in  his  lerning  and  Goddes  knight. 
And  after  this  Tiburce  gat  swiche  grace, 
That  every  day  he  saw  in  time  and  space 
The  angel  of  God,  and  every  maner  bone 
That  he  God  axed,  it  was  sped  ful  sone. 

It  were  ful  hard  by  ordre  for  to  sain 
How  many  wonders  Jesus  for  hem  wrought. 
But  at  the  last,  to  tellen  short  and  plain, 
The  sergeaunts  of  the  toun  of  Borne  hem  sought^ 
And  hem  before  Almache  the  prefect  brought, 
Which  hem  apposed,2  and  knew  all  hire  entente 
And  to  the  image  of  Jupiter  hem  sent; 

And  said ;  who  so  wol  nought  do  sacrifice, 
Swap3  of  his  hed,  this  is  my  sentence  here. 
Anon  thise  martyrs,  that  I  you  devise, 
On  Maximus,  that  was  an  officere 
Of  the  prefectes,  and  his  corniculere,4 

1  Message,  teaching. 

»  Opposed,  or  put  them  to  the  question.  *  Strike. 

*  Cornicularius,  an  officer  under  the  Boman  government. 

40 


470  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.        15838-1587*. 

Hem  hent,  and  whan  he  forth  the  seintes  lad, 
Himself  he  wept  for  pitee  that  he  had. 

Whan  Maximus  had  herd  the  seintes  lore, 
He  gate  him  of  the  turmentoures  leve, 
And  lad  hem  to  his  hous  withouten  more; 
And  with  hir  preching,  or  that  it  were  eve, 
They  gonnen  fro  the  turmentours  to  reve,1 
And  fro  Maxime,  and  fro  his  folk  eche  on 
The  false  faith,  to  trowe  in  God  alone. 

Cecilie  came,  whan  it  was  waxen  night, 
With  preestes,  that  hem  cristened  all  yfere; 
And  afterward,  whan  day  was  waxen  light, 
Cecilie  hem  said  with  a  ful  stedfast  chere ; 
Now,  Cristes  owen  knightes  leve  and  dere, 
Caste  all  away  the  werkes  of  derkenesse, 
And  armeth  you  in  amies  of  brightnesse. 

Ye  han  forsoth  ydon  a  gret  bataille ; 
Your  coura  is  don,  your  faith  han  ye  conserved  ; 
Goth  to  the  croune  of  lif  that  may  not  faille ; 
The  rightful  juge,  which  that  ye  han  served, 
Shal  yeve  it  you,  as  ye  han  it  deserved. 
And  whan  this  thing  was  said,  as  I  devise, 
Men  ledde  hem  forth  to  don  the  sacrifice. 

But  whan  they  weren  to  the  place  ybrought, 
To  tellen  shortly  the  conclusioun, 
They  n'olde  encense,  ne  sacrifice  right  nought, 
But  on  hir  knees  they  setten  hem  adoun, 
With  humble  herte  and  sad  devotioun, 
And  losten  bothe  hir  hedes  in  the  place ; 
Hir  soules  wenten  to  the  king  of  grace. 

This  Maximus,  that  saw  this  thing  betide, 
With  pitous  teres  told  it  anon  right, 
That  he  hir  soules  saw  to  heven  elide 
With  angels,  ful  of  clerenesse  and  of  light; 
And  with  his  word  converted  many  a  wight. 
For  which  Almachius  did  him  to-bete 
With  whip  of  led,  til  he  his  lif  gan  lete, 

1  Take  away. 


16875-15914.       THE  SECOND  NONNES  TALE.  471 

Cecile  him  toke,  and  buried  him  anon 
By  Tiburce  and  Valerian  softely, 
Within  hir  burying  place,  under  the  ston. 
And  after  this  Aimachius  hastily 
Bad  his  ministres  fetchen  openly 
Cecile,  so  that  she  might  in  his  presence 
Don  sacrifice,  and  Jupiter  encense. 

But  they  converted  at  hire  wise  lore1 
Wepten  ful  sore,  and  yaven  ful  credence 
Unto  hire  word,  and  crieden  more  and  more; 
Crist,  Goddes  sone,  withouten  difference 
Is  veray  God,  this  is  all  our  sentence, 
That  hath  so  good  a  servant  him  to  serve: 
Thus  with  o  vois  we  trowen2  though  we  sterve.8 

Aimachius,  that  herd  of  this  doing, 
Bad  fetchen  Cecile,  that  he  might  hire  see: 
And  alderfirst,  lo,  this  was  his  axing ; 
What  maner  woman  arte  thou  ?  quod  he. 
I  am  a  gentilwoman  borne,  quod  she. 
I  axe  thee,  quod  he,  though  it  thee  greve, 
Of  thy  religion  and  of  thy  beleve. 

Why  than  began  your  question  folily, 
Quod  she,  that  woldest  two  answers  conclude 
In  o  demand  ?  ye  axen  lewedly. 
Almache  answerd  to  that  similitude, 
Of  whennes  cometh  thin  answering  so  rude  ? 
Of  whennes  1  (quod  she,  whan  that  she  was  freined) 
Of  conscience,  and  of  good  faith  unfeined. 

Aimachius  said ;  ne  takest  thou  non  hede 
Of  my  power  ?  and  she  him  answerd  this; 
Your  might  (quod  she)  ful  litel  is  to  drede; 
For  every  mortal  mannes  power  n'is 
But  like  a  bladder  ful  of  wind  ywis : 
For  with  a  nedles  point,  whan  it  is  blow, 
May  all  the  bost  of  it  be  laid  ful  low. 

Ful  wrongfully  begonnest  thou,  (quod  he) 
And  yet  in  wrong  is  al  thy  perseverance : 
Wostf  thou  not  how  our  mighty  princes  free 
Have  thus  commanded  and  made  ordinance, 
That  every  cristen  wight  shal  han  penance 

1  Advice,  teaching.  2  Believe.  "Die.  «Knowest. 


472  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         15915-15951. 

But  if  that  he  his  Cristendome  withseye, 
And  gon  al  quite,  if  he  wol  it  reneye  ? 

Your  princes  erren,  as  your  nobley  doth, 
Quod  tho  Cecile,  and  with  a  wood  sentence 
Ye  make  us  gilty,  and  it  is  not  soth: 
For  ye  that  knowen  wel  our  innocence, 
For  as  moche  as  we  don  ay  reverence 
To  Crist,  and  for  we  here  a  Cristen  name, 
Ye  put  on  us  a  crime  and  eke  a  blame 

But  we  that  knowen  thilke  name  so 
For  vertuous,  we  may  it  not  withseye. 
Almache  answered ;  chese  on  of  thise  two, 
Do  sacrifice,  or  Cristendom  reneye, 
That  thou  mow  now  escapen  by  that  wey. 
At  which  this  holy  blisful  fayre  maid 
Gran  for  to  laughe,  and  to  the  juge  said: 

0  juge  confuse  in  thy  nicetee, 
Woldest  thou  that  I  reneye  innocence  ? 
To  maken  me  a  wicked  wight  (quod  she) 
Lo,  he  dissimuleth  here  in  audience, 

He  stareth  and  wodeth1  in  his  advertence.* 
To  whom  Almachius  said;  Unsely3  wretch, 
Ne  wost  thou  not  how  far  my  might  may  stretch  t 

Han  not  our  mighty  princes  to  me  yeven 
Ya  bothe  power  and  eke  auctoritee 
To  maken  folk  to  dien  or  to  liven  ? 
Why  spekest  thou  so  proudly  than  to  me  ? 
I  ne  speke  nought  but  stedfastly,  quod  she, 
Not  proudely,  for  I  say,  as  for  my  side, 
We  haten  dedly  thilke  vice  of  pride. 

And  if  thou  drede  not  a  soth  for  to  here, 
Than  wol  I  shewe  al  openly  by  right, 
That  thou  hast  made  a  ful  gret  lesing  here. 
Thou  saist,  thy  princes  han  thee  yeven  might 
Both  for  to  slee  and  for  to  quiken  a  wight, 
Thou  that  ne  maist  but  only  lif  bereve, 
Thou  hast  non  other  power  ne  no  leve. 

1  Raveth .  «  Attention.  3  Unhappy. 


15952-15991.        THE  SECOND  NONNES  TALE.  473 

But  thou  maist  sayn,  thy  princes  han  thee  maked 
Ministre  of  deth ;  for  if  thou  speke  of  mo, 
Thou  liest ;  for  thy  power  is  ful  naked. 
Do  way  thy  boldnesse,  said  Almachius  tho, 
And  sacrifice  to  our  goddes,  er  thou  go. 
I  recke  not  what  wrong  that  thou  me  profire, 
For  I  can  suffre  it  as  a  philosophre. 

But  thilke  wronges  may  I  not  endure, 
That  thou  spekest  of  our  goddes  here,  quod  he. 
Cecile  answerd ;  o  nice  creature, 
Thou  saidest  no  word  sin  thou  spake  to  me, 
That  I  ne  knew  therwith  thy  nicetee, 
And  that  thou  were  in  every  maner  wise 
A  lewed  o nicer,  a  vain  justice. 

Ther  lacketh  nothing  to  thin  utter1  eyen 
That  thou  n'art  blind;  for  thing  that  we  seen  alle 
That  is  a  ston,  that  men  may  wel  espien, 
That  ilke  ston  a  god  thou  wolt  it  calle. 
I  rede  thee  let  thin  hond  upon  it  falle, 
And  tast  it  wel,  and  ston  thou  shalt  it  find, 
Sin  that  thou  seest  not  with  thin  eyen  blind. 

It  is  a  shame  that  the  peple  shal 
So  scornen  thee,  and  laugh  at  thy  folie: 
For  comunly  men  wot  it  wel  over  al, 
That  mighty  God  is  in  his  hevens  hie ; 
And  thise  images,  wel  maist  thou  espie, 
To  thee  ne  to  hemself  may  not  profite, 
For  in  effect  they  be  not  worth  a  mite. 

Thise  and  swiche  other  wordes  saide  she, 
And  he  wex  wroth,  and  bade  men  shuld  hire  lede 
Home  til  hire  house,  and  in  hire  hous  (quod  he) 
Brenne  hire  right  in  a  bath,  with  flames  rede. 
And  as  he  bade,  right  so  was  don  the  dede ; 
For  in  a  bathe  they  gonne  hire  faste  shetten, 
And  night  and  day  gret  fire  they  under  betten. 

The  longe  night,  and  eke  a  day  also, 
For  all  the  fire,  and  eke  the  bathes  hete, 
She  sate  al  cold,  and  felt  of  it  no  wo, 
It  made  hire  not  a  drope  for  to  swete: 
But  in  that  bath  hire  lit'  she  muste  lute. 
»  Outer. 
40* 


474  THE  CANTEEBUBY  TALES.         15992-16021. 

For  he  Almache,  with  a  ful  wicke  entent, 
To  sleen  hire  in  the  bath  his  sonde1  sent. 

Three  strokes  in  the  nekke  he  smote  hire  tho 
The  turmentour,  but  for  no  maner  chance 
He  mighte  not  smite  all  hire  nekke  atwo: 
And  for  ther  was  that  time  an  ordinance 
That  no  man  shulde  don  man  swiche  penance, 
The  fourthe  stroke  to  smiten,  soft  or  sore, 
This  turmentour  ne  dorste  do  no  more; 

But  half  ded,  with  hire  nekke  ycorven  ther 
He  left  hire  lie,  and  on  his  way  is  went. 
The  cristen  folk,  which  that  about  hire  were, 
With  shetes  han  the  blood  ful  faire  yhent 
Three  dayes  lived  she  in  this  turment, 
And  never  cesed  hem  the  faith  to  teche, 
That  she  had  fostred  hem,  she  gan  to  preche. 

And  hem  she  yaf  hire  mebles  and  hire  thing, 
And  to  the  pope  Urban  betoke  hem  tho, 
And  said  ;  I  axed  this  of  heven  king, 
To  have  respit  three  dayes  and  no  mo, 
To  recommend  to  you,  or  that  I  go,  * 

Thise  soules  lo,  and  that  I  might  do  werche 
Here  of  min  hous  perpetuellich  a  cherche. 

Seint  Urban,  with  his  dekenes3  prively 
The  body  fette,  and  buried  it  by  night 
Among  his  other  seintes  honestly: 
Hire  hous  the  cherche  of  seinte  Cecile  hight; 
Seint  Urban  halowed  it,  as  he  wel  might, 
In  which  unto  this  day  in  noble  wise 
Men  don  to  Crist  and  to  his  seinte  servise, 

1  Order.  s  Deacons. 


475 


THE  CHANONES  YEMANNES  PKOLOGUE. 

16022-16051. 

Whan  that  tolde  was  the  lif  of  seinte  Cecily 
Er  we  had  ridden  fully  five  mile,1 
At  Boughton  under  blee  us  gan  atake2 
A  man,  that  clothed  was  in  clothes  blake, 
And  undernethe  he  wered  a  white  surplis. 
His  hakeney,  which  that  was  al  pomelee  gvia, 
So  swatte,  that  it  wonder  was  to  see, 
It  semed  as  he  had  priked  miles  three. 
The  horse  eke  that  his  yeman  rode  upon, 
So  swatte,  that  unnethes  might  he  gon. 
About  the  peytrel  stood  the  fome  ful  hie, 
He  was  ol  fome  as  flecked3  as  a  pie. 
A  male  tweiiold4  on  his  croper  lay, 
It  semed  that  he  caried  litel  array, 
Al  light  for  sommer  rode  this  worthy  man. 
And  in  my  herte  wondren  I  began 
What  that  he  was,  til  that  I  understode, 
How  that  his  cloke  was  sowed  to  his  hode; 
For  which  whan  I  had  long  avised  me, 
I  demed  him  some  chanon  for  to  be. 
His  hat  heng  at  his  back  doun  by  a  las,5 
For  he  had  ridden  more  than  trot  or  pas, 
He  had  ay  priked  like  as  he  were  woae. 
A  clote-lefe6  he  had  laid  under  his  hode 
For  swete,  and  for  to  kepe  his  hed  fro  hete. 
But  it  was  joye  for  to  seen  him  swete; 
His  forehed  dropped,  as  a  stillatorie7 
Were  ful  of  plantaine  or  of  paritorie.8 
And  whan  that  he  was  come,  he  gan  to  crie, 
God  save  (quod  he)  this  joly  compagnie 

*  See  a  long  dissertation  in  Tyrwhitt's  notes. 

s  Overtake.  s  Sprinkled  with  foam. 

4  Double  budget.  *  Lace. 

*  A  leaf  of  the  burdock.  ?  still.  8  Pellitorj. 


476  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         16052-16093. 

Fast  have  I  priked  (quod  he)  for  your  sake, 
Because  that  I  wolde  you  atake, 
To  riden  in  this  mery  compagnie. 

His  yeman  was  eke  ful  of  curtesie, 
And  saide ;  Sires,  now  in  the  morwe  tide 
Out  of  your  hostelrie  I  saw  you  ride, 
And  warned  here  my  lord  and  soverain, 
Which  that  to  riden  with  you  is  ful  fain, 
For  his  disport;  he  loveth  daliance. 
Frend,  for  thy  warning  God  yeve  thee  good  chance, 
Than  said  our  hoste;  certain  it  wolde  seme 
Thy  lord  were  wise,  and  so  I  may  wel  deme ; 
He  is  ful  joconde  also  dare  I  leye : 
Can  he  ought  tell  a  mery  tale  or  tweie, 
With  which  he  gladen  may  this  compagnie  ? 

Who,  sire  ?  my  lord?  Ye,  sire,  withouten  lie, 
He  can  of  mirth  and  eke  of  jolitee 
Not  but  ynough ;  also,  sire,  trusteth  me, 
And  ye  him  knew  al  so  wel  as  do  I, 
Ye  wolden  wondre  how  wel  and  craftily 
He  coude  werke,  and  that  in  sondry  wise. 
He  hath  take  on  him  many  a  gret  emprise, 
Which  were  ful  harde  for  any  that  is  here 
To  bring  about,  but  they  of  him  it  lere.1 
As  homely  as  he  rideth  amonges  you, 
If  ye  him  knew,  it  wold  be  for  your  prow:3 
Ye  wolden  not  forgon  his  acquaintance 
For  mochel  good,  I  dare  lay  in  balance 
All  that  I  have  in  my  possession. 
He  is  a  man  of  high  discression, 
I  warne  you  wel,  he  is  a  passing  man. 

Wel,  quod  our  hoste,  I  pray  thee  tell  me  than, 
Is  he  a  clerk,  or  non  ?  tell  what  he  is. 

Nay,  he  is  greter  than  a  clerk  ywis, 
Saide  this  yeman,  and  in  wordes  fewe, 
Hoste,  of  his  craft  somwhat  I  wol  you  shewe. 

I  say,  my  lord  can  swiche  a  subtiltee, 
(But  all  his  craft  ye  moun  not  wete  of  me, 
And  somwhat  help  I  yet  to  his  werking) 
That  all  the  ground  on  which  we  ben  riding 
Till  that  we  come  to  Canterbury  toun, 
He  coud  al  clene  turnen  up  so  doun, 

»  Learned.  '  Profit,  advantage. 


16094—16135.  THE  CHANONES  YEMANNES  PROLOGUE.       477 

And  pave  it  all  of  silver  and  of  gold. 

And  whan  this  yemau  had  this  tale  ytolde 
Unto  our  hoste,  he  said ;  benedicite, 
This  thing  is  wonder  mervaillous  to  me, 
Sin  that  thy  lord  is  of  so  high  prudence, 
Because  of  which  men  shulde  him  reverence, 
That  of  his  worship  rekketh  he  so  lite; 
His  overest  sloppe  it  is  not  worth  a  mite 
As  in  effect  to  him,  so  mote  I  go; 
It  is  all  baudy1  and  to-tore2  also. 
Why  is  thy  lord  so  sluttish  I  thee  preye, 
And  is  of  power  better  cloth  to  beye, 
If  that  his  dede  acorded  with  thy  speche  ? 
Telle  me  that,  and  that  I  thee  beseche. 

Why?  quod  this  yeman,  wherto  axe  ye  me? 
God  helpe  me  so,  for  he  shal  never  the;3 
(But  I  wol  not  avowen  that  I  say, 
And  therfore  kepe  it  secree  I  you  pray) 
He  is  to  wise  in  faith,  as  I  beleve. 
Thing  that  is  overdon,  it  wol  not  preve 
Aright,  as  clerkes  sain,  it  is  a  vice ; 
Wherfore  in  that  I  hold  him  lewed  and  nice. 
For  whan  a  man  hath  overgret  a  wit, 
Ful  oft  him  happeth  to  misusen  it: 
So  doth  my  lord,  and  that  me  greveth  sore. 
God  it  amende,  I  can  say  now  no  more. 

Therof  no  force,  good  yeman,  quod  our  host, 
Sin  of  the  conning  of  thy  lord  thou  wost, 
Telle  how  he  doth,  I  pray  thee  hertily, 
Sin  that  he  is  so  crafty  and  so  sly. 
Wher  dwellen  ye,  if  it  to  tellen  be  ? 

In  the  subarbes  of  a  toun,  quod  he, 
Lurking  in  hemes4  and  in  lanes  blinde, 
Wheras  thise  robbours  and  thise  theves  by  kinde 
Holden  hir  privee  fereful  residence, 
As  they  that  dare  not  shewen  hir  presence, 
So  faren  we,  if  I  shal  say  the  sothe. 

Yet,  quod  our  hoste,  let  me  talken  to  the ; 
Why  art  thou  so  discoloured  of  thy  face  ? 

Peter,  quod  he,  God  yeve  it  harde  grace, 
I  am  so  used  the  hote  fire  to  blow, 
That  it  hath  changed  my  colour  I  trow; 

» Dirty.  »  Tom. 

»  Thrive.  «  Cornell. 


478  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.        16136-16179. 

I  n'am  not  wont  in  no  mirrour  to  prie, 
But  swinke  sore,  and  lerne  to  multiplie. 
We  blundren  ever,  and  poren  in  the  fire, 
And  for  all  that  we  faille  of  our  desire, 
For  ever  we  lacken  our  conclusion. 
To  mochel  folk  we  don  illusion, 
And  borwe  gold,  be  it  a  pound  or  two, 
Or  ten  or  twelve,  or  many  sommes  mo, 
And  make  hem  wenen  at  the  leste  wey, 
That  of  a  pound  we  connen  maken  twey, 
Yet  is  it  false ;  and  ay  we  han  good  hope 
It  for  to  don,  and  after  it  we  grope: 
But  that  science  is  so  fer  us  beforne, 
We  mowen  not,  although  we  had  it  sworne, 
It  overtake,  it  slit  away  so  fast; 
It  wol  us  maken  beggers  at  the  last. 

While  this  yeman  was  thus  in  his  talking, 
This  Chanon  drow  him  nere,  and  herd  all  thing 
Which  this  yeman  spake,  for  suspecion 
Of  mennes  speche  ever  had  this  Chanon: 
For  Caton  sayth,  that  he  that  gilty  is, 
Demeth  all  thing  be  spoken  of  him  ywis: 
That  was  the  cause,  he  gan  so  nigh  him  drawe 
To  his  yeman,  to  herken  all  his  sawe, 
And  thus  he  saide  unto  his  yeman  tho ; 
Hold  thou  thy  pees,  and  speke  no  wordes  mo: 
For  if  thou  do,  thou  shalt  it  dere  abie. 
Thou  sclaundrest  me  here  in  this  compagnie, 
And  eke  discoverest  that  thou  shuldest  hide. 

Ye,  quod  our  hoste,  tell  on,  what  so  betide ; 
Of  all  his  thretening  recke  not  a  mite. 

In  faith,  quod  he,  no  more  I  do  but  lite. 
And  whan  this  Chanon  saw  it  wold  not  be, 
But  his  yeman  wold  tell  his  privetee, 
He  fled  away  for  veray  sorwe  and  shame. 

A,  quod  the  yeman,  here  shal  rise  a  game: 
All  that  I  can  anon  I  wol  you  telle, 
Sin  he  is  gon;  the  foule  fend  him  quelle; 
For  never  hereafter  wol  I  with  him  mete 
For  peny  ne  for  pound,  I  you  behete. 
He  that  me  broughte  first  unto  that  game, 
Er  that  he  die,  sorwe  have  he  and  shame. 
For  it  it  is  ernest  to  me  by  faith; 
That  fele  I  wel,  what  that  any  man  saith ; 


16180-16211.     THE  CHANONES  YEMANNES  TALE.  479 

And  yet  for  all  my  smert,  and  all  my  grief, 
For  all  my  sorwe,  labour,  and  meschief, 
I  coude  never  leve  it  in  no  wise. 
Now  wolde  God  my  wit  mighte  suffice 
To  tellen  all  that  longeth  to  that  art; 
But  natheles,  yet  wol  I  tellen  part ; 
Sin  that  my  lord  is  gon,  I  wol  not  spare, 
Swiche  thing  as  that  I  know,  I  wol  declare. 


%\t  tyjmm  gmantts  Stffc 

With  this  Chanon  I  dwelt  have  seven  yere, 

And  of  his  science  am  I  never  the  nere: 

All  fliat  I  had,  I  have  ylost  therby, 

And  God  wot,  so  han  many  mo  than  I. 

Ther  I  was  wont  to  be  right  fresh  and  gay 

Of  clothing,  and  of  other  good  array. 

Now  may  I  were  an  hose  upon  min  hed ; 

And  wher  my  colour  was  both  fresh  and  red, 

Now  is  it  wan,  and  of  a  leden  hewe ; 

(Who  so  it  useth,  so  shal  he  it  rewe) 

And  of  my  swinke  yet  blered  is  min  eye ; 

Lo  which  a  vantage  is  to  multiplie ! 

That  sliding  science  hath  me  made  so  bare, 

That  I  have  no  good,  wher  that  ever  I  fare ; 

And  yet  I  am  endetted  so  therby 

Of  gold,  that  I  have  borwed  trewely, 

That  while  I  live,  I  shal  it  quiten  never ; 

Let  every  man  be  ware  by  me  for  ever. 

What  maner  man  that  casteth  him  therto, 

If  he  continue,  I  hold  his  thrift  ydo ; 

So  help  me  God,  therby  shal  he  nat  winne, 

But  empte  his  purse,  and  make  his  wittes  thinne. 

And  whan  he,  thurgh  his  madnesse  and  folie, 

Hath  lost  his  owen  good  thurgh  jupartie,1 

1  So  MS.  C.  i.  I  have  followed  it,  as  it  comes  nearest  to  the  true 
original  of  our  word  jeopardie,  which  our  etymologists  have  sadly  mis- 
taken. They  deduce  it  from  J'ai  perdu,  or  Jeu  perdu;  but  I  rather  be- 
lieve it  to  be  a  corruption  of  Jeu  parti.  A  jeu  parti  is  properly  a  game, 
in  which  the  chances  are  exactly  even.   See  Froissart,  v.  i.  c.  284.    lis 


480  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         16212-16249. 

Than  he  exciteth  other  folk  therto, 

To  lese  hir  good  as  he  himself  hath  do. 

For  unto  shrewes  joye  it  is  and  ese 

To  have  hir  felawes  in  peine  and  disese. 

Thus  was  I  ones  lerned  of  a  clerk  ; 

Of  that  no  charge  ;  I  wol  speke  of  our  werk. 

Whan  we  be  ther  as  we  shuln  exercise 
Our  elvish  craft,  we  semen  wonder  wise, 
Our  termes  ben  so  clergial  and  queinte. 
I  blow  the  fire  til  that  myn  herte  feinte. 
"What  shuld  I  tellen  eche  proportion 
Of  thinges,  whiche  that  we  werchen  upon, 
As  on  five  or  six  unces,  may  wel  be, 
Of  silver,  or  som  other  quantitee  ? 
And  besie  me  to  tellen  you  the  names, 
As  orpiment,  brent  bones,  yren  squames,1 
That  into  poudre  grounden  ben  ful  smal  ? 
And  in  an  erthen  pot  how  put  is  al, 
And  salt  yput  in,  and  also  pepere, 
Beforn  thise  poudres  that  I  speke  of  here, 
And  wel  ycovered  with  a  lampe  of  glas  ? 
And  of  moche  other  thing  which  that  ther  was  t 
And  of  the  pottes  and  glasses  engluting,2 
That  ol  the  aire  might  passen  out  no  thing  ? 
And  of  the  esy  fire,  and  smert  also, 
Which  that  was  made  ?  and  of  the  care  and  wo, 
That  we  had  in  our  materes  subliming, 
And  in  amalgaming,  and  calcening 
Of  quiksilver,  ycleped  mercurie  crude  ? 
For  all  our  sleightes  we  can  not  conclude. 
Our  orpiment,  and  sublimed  mercurie, 
Our  grounden  litarge  eke  on  the  porphurie, 
Of  eche  of  thise  of  unces  a  certain 
Not  helpeth  us,  our  labour  is  in  vain. 
Ne,  neyther  our  spirites  ascentioun, 
Ne  our  materes  that  lien  al  fix  adoun, 
Mown  in  our  werking  nothing  us  availle; 
For  lost  is  all  our  labour  and  travaille, 

n'estoient  pas  a  jeu  parti  contre  les  Francois,  v.  ii.  e.  9,  si  nous  les 
voyons  a  jeu  parti.  From  hence  it  signifies  anything  uncertain,  or 
hazardous.  In  the  old  French  poetry,  the  discussion  of  a  problem, 
where  much  might  be  said  on  both  sides,  was  called  a  Jeu  parti,  bee 
Poeriet  du  Roy  de  Navarre,  Chanson  xlviii.  and  Glou.  in  V.  See  also  Du 
Cange  in  v.  Jocus  PAaTrrus.— 7yraA»tt. 

1  Scales.  3  Stopping  with  clay. 


16250-16289.     THE  CHANONES  YEMANNES  TALE.  481 

And  all  the  cost  a  twenty  devil  way 
Is  lost  also,  which  we  upon  it  Jay. 

Ther  is  also  ful  many  another  thing, 
That  is  unto  our  craft  apperteining, 
Though  I  by  ordre  hem  nat  reherseu  can, 
Because  that  I  am  a  lewcd1  man, 
Yet  wol  I  telle  hem,  as  they  come  to  minde, 
Though  I  ne  cannot  set  hem  in  hir  kinde, 
As  bole  armoniak,  verdegrese,  boras ; 
And  sondry  vessels  made  of  erthe  and  glas, 
Our  urinales,  and  our  descensories, 
Viols,  croslettes,  and  sublimatories, 
Cucuribtes,2  and  alembikes  eke, 
And  other  swiche  gere,  dere  ynough  a  leke, 
What  nedeth  it  for  to  reherse  hem  alle  i 
Wateres  rubifying,  and  bolles  galle, 
Arsenik,  sal  armoniak,  and  brimston  ? 
And  herbes  coude  I  tell  eke  many  on, 
As  egremoine,3  valerian,  and  lunarie,4 
And  other  swiche,  if  that  me  list  to  tarie ; 
Our  lampes  brenning  bothe  night  and  day, 
To  bring  about  our  craft  if  that  we  may; 
Our  fourneis  eke  of  calcination, 
And  of  wateres  albification, 
TJnslekked  lime,  chalk,  and  gleire  of  an  ey,* 
Poudres  divers,  ashes,  dong,  pisse,  and  cley, 
Sered6  pokettes,  sal  peter,  and  vitriole ; 
And  divers  fires  made  of  wode  and  cole; 
Sal  tartre,  alcaly,  and  salt  preparat, 
And  combust  materes,  and  coagulat; 
Cley  made  with  hors  and  mannes  here,  and  oHe 
Of  tartre,  alum,  glas,  berme,7  wort,  and  argoile,8 
Eosalgar,9  and  other  materes  enbibing; 
And  eke  of  our  materes  encorporing, 
And  of  our  silver  citrination, 
Our  cementing,  and  fermentation, 
Our  ingottes,  testes,  and  many  thinges  mo. 

I  wol  you  tell  as  was  me  taught  also 
The  foure  spirites,  and  the  bodies  sevene 
By  ordre,  as  oft  I  herd  my  lord  hem  nevene.1" 

1  Simple,  ignorant.  3  Crucibles.  3  Agrimony. 

*  Moon-wort.  *  Glaire,  or  white  of  an  egg. 

« Dry.  1  Yeast.  8  Potter's  clay, 

»  Bed  arsenic  10  Name. 

41 


482  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         16290-16331. 

The  firste  spirit  quiksilver  cleped  is ; 
The  second  orpiment ;  the  thridde  ywis 
Sal  armoniak,  and  the  fourth  brimston. 

The  bodies  sevene  eke,  lo  hem  here  anon. 
Sol  gold  is,  and  Luna  silver  we  threpe ; 
Mars  iren,  Mercurie  quiksilver  we  clepe: 
Saturnus  led,  and  Jupiter  is  tin, 
And  Venus  coper,  by  my  fader  kin. 

This  cursed  craft  who  so  wol  exercise, 
He  shal  no  good  have,  that  him  may  suffice, 
For  all  the  good  he  spendeth  theraboute 
He  lesen  shal,  therof  have  I  no  doute. 
Who  so  that  listeth  uttren  his  folie, 
Let  him  come  iorth  and  lernen  multiplie : 
And  every  man  that  hath  ought  in  his  cofre, 
Let  him  appere,  and  wex  a  philosophre, 
Ascaunce1  that  craft  is  so  light  to  lere. 
Nay,  nay,  God  wot,  al  be  he  monk  or  frere, 
Preest  or  chanon,  or  any  other  wight, 
Though  he  sit  at  his  book  both  day  and  night 
In  lerning  of  this  elvish  nice  lore, 
All  is  in  vain,  and  parde  mochel  more 
To  lerne  a  lewed  man  this  subtiltee ; 
Fie,  speke  not  therof,  for  it  wol  not  be. 
And  conne  he  letterure,  or  conne  he  non, 
As  in  effect,  he  shal  finde  it  all  on; 
For  bothe  two  by  my  salvation 
Concluden  in  multiplication 
Ylike  wel,  whan  they  have  all  ydo ; 
This  is  to  sain,  they  faillen  bothe  two. 

Yet  forgate  I  to  maken  rehersaile 
Of  waters  corosif,  and  of  limaile,2 
And  of  bodies  mollification, 
And  also  of  hir  induration, 
Oiles,  ablusions,  metal  fusible, 
To  tellen  all,  wold  passen  any  bible, 
That  o  wher  is ;  wherfore  as  for  the  best 
Of  all  thise  names  now  wol  I  me  rest ; 
For  as  I  trow,  I  have  you  told  ynow 
To  reise  a  fend,*al  loke  he  never  so  row. 

A,  nay,  let  be ;  the  philosophres  ston, 
Elixer  cleped,  we  seken  fast  eche  on, 

1  See  Tyrwhitt's  note  on  vs.  7327.  s  Filings. 


16332-16373.     THE  CHANONES  YEMANNE3  TALE.  483 

For  had  we  him,  than  were  we  siker  ynow; 

But  unto  God  of  heven  I  make  avow, 

For  all  our  craft,  whan  we  han  all  ydo, 

And  all  our  sleight,  he  wol  not  come  us  to. 

He  hath  ymade  us  spenden  mochel  good, 

For  sorwe  of  which  almost  we  waxen  wood, 

But  that  good  hope  crepeth  in  our  herte, 

Supposing  ever,  though  we  sore  smerte, 

To  ben  releved  of  him  afterward. 

Swiche  supposing  and  hope  is  sharpe  and  hard. 

I  warne  you  wel  it  is  to  seken  ever. 

That  future  temps1  hath  made  men  dissever, 

In  trust  therof,  from  all  that  ever  they  had, 

Yet  of  that  art  they  conne  not  waxen  sad, 

For  unto  hem  it  is  a  bitter  swete ; 

So  semeth  it ;  for  ne  had  they  but  a  shete 

Which  that  they  might  wrappen  hem  in  a-night, 

And  a  bratt2  to  walken  in  by  day-light, 

They  wold  hem  sell,  and  spend  it  on  this  craft; 

They  conne  not  stinten,  til  no  thing  be  laft. 

And  evermore,  wher  ever  that  they  gon, 

Men  may  hem  kennen  by  smell  of  brimston  ; 

For  all  the  world  they  stinken  as  a  gote; 

Hir  savour  is  so  rammish  and  so  hote, 

That  though  a  man  a  mile  from  hem  be, 

The  savour  wol  enfect  him,  trusteth  me. 

Lo,  thus  by  smelling  and  thred-bare  array, 
If  that  men  list,  this  folk  they  knowen  may. 
And  if  a  man  wol  axe  hem  prively, 
Why  they  be  clothed  so  unthriftily, 
They  right  anon  wol  rounen3  in  his  ere, 
And  saien,  if  that  they  espied  vvere, 
Men  wolde  hem  sle,  because  of  hir  science: 
Lo,  thus  thise  folk  betraien  innocence. 

Passe  over  this,  I  go  my  tale  unto. 
Er  that  the  pot  be  on  the  fire  ydo 
Of  metals  with  a  certain  quantitee, 
My  lord  hem  tempereth,  and  no  man  but  he; 
(Now  he  is  gon,  I  dare  say  boldely) 
For  as  men  sain,  he  can  don  craftily ; 
Algate  I  wote  wel  he  hath  swiche  a  name, 
And  yet  ful  oft  he  renneth  in  a  blame ; 

»  Time.  2  Coarse  mantle.  3  Whiape*. 


484  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.        16374-16413. 

And  wete  ye  how  1  ful  oft  it  falleth  so, 
The  pot  to-breketh,  and  farewel  all  is  go. 
Thise  metales  ben  of  so  gret  violence, 
Our  walles  may  not  make  hem  resistence, 
But  if  they  weren  wrought  of  lime  and  ston ; 
They  percen  so,  that  thurgh  the  wall  they  gon; 
And  som  of  hem  sinke  doun  into  the  ground, 
(Thus  have  we  lost  by  times  many  a  pound) 
And  som  are  scatered  all  the  flore  aboute ; 
Som  lepen  into  the  roof  withouten  doute. 
Though  that  the  fend  not  in  our  sight  him  shewe, 
I  trow  that  he  be  with  us,  thilke  shrewe, 
In  helle,  wher  that  he  is  lord  and  sire, 
Ne  is  ther  no  more  wo,  rancour,  ne  ire. 
"Whan  that  our  pot  is  broke,  as  I  have  sayde, 
Every  man  chit,1  and  holt  him  evil  apayde. 
Som  sayd  it  was  long  on  the  fire-making ; 
Som  sayd  nay,  it  was  long  on  the  blowing; 
(Than  was  I  ferd,  for  that  was  min  office) 
Straw,  quod  the  thridde,  ye  ben  lewed  and  nice, 
It  was  not  tempred  as  it  ought  to  be. 
Nay,  quod  the  fourthe,  stint  and  herken  me; 
Because  our  fire  was  not  made  of  beche, 
That  is  the  cause,  and  other  non,  so  the  iche.8 
I  can  not  tell  wheron  it  was  along, 
But  wel  I  wot  gret  strif  is  us  among. 
What  1  quod  my  lord,  ther  n'is  no  more  to  don, 
Of  thise  perils  I  wol  beware  eftsone. 
I  am  right  siker,3  that  the  pot  was  erased.4 
Be  as  be  may,  be  ye  no  thing  amased. 
As  usage  is,  let  swepe  the  flore  as  swithe  ;5 
Plucke  up  your  hertes  and  be  glad  and  blithe. 

The  mullok6  on  an  hepe  ysweped  was, 
And  on  the  flore  yeast  a  canevas,7 
And  all  this  mullok  in  a  sive  ythrowe, 
And  sifted,  and  ypicked  many  a  throwe.8 

Parde,  quod  on,  somwhat  of  our  inetall 
Yet  is  ther  here,  though  that  we  have  not  all. 
And  though  this  thing  mishapped  hath  as  now, 
Another  time  it  may  be  wel  ynow. 

1  Chides.  2  So  may  I  thrive. 

*  Sure.  4  Ecrati,  broken. 

*  Busily,  quickly.  6  Dung,  rubbish. 
'  Canvass.  8  Time. 


16414,-16455.     THE  CHANONES  YEMANNES  TALE.  485 

We  mosten  put  our  good  in  aventure ; 
A  marchant  parde  may  not  ay  endure, 
Trusteth  me  wel,  in  his  prospei'itee : 
Somtime  his  good  is  drenched  in  the  see, 
And  somtime  cometh  it  sauf  unto  the  lond. 

Pees,  quod  my  lord,  the  next  time  I  wol  fond 
To  bring  our  craft  all  in  another  plite, 
And  but  I  do,  sires,  let  me  have  the  wite: 
Ther  was  defaute  in  somwhat,  wel  I  wote. 

Another  sayd,  the  fire  was  over  bote. 
But  be  it  hote  or  cold,  I  dare  say  this, 
That  we  concluden  ever  more  amis : 
We  faille  alway  of  that  which  we  wold  have, 
And  in  our  madnesse  evermore  we  rave. 
And  whan  we  be  together  everich  on, 
Every  man  semeth  a  Salomon. 
But  all  thing,  which  that  shineth  as  the  gold, 
Ne  is  no  gold,  as  I  have  herd  it  told; 
Ne  every  apple  that  is  faire  at  eye, 
Ne  is  not  good,  what  so  men  clap  or  crie. 
Right  so,  lo,  fareth  it  amonges  us. 
He  that  semeth  the  wisest  by  Jesus 
Is  most  fool,  whan  it  cometh  to  the  prefe; 
And  he  that  semeth  trewest,  is  a  thefe. 
That  shal  ye  know,  or  that  I  from  you  wende, 
By  that  I  of  my  tale  have  made  an  ende. 

Ther  was  a  chanon  of  religioun 
Amonges  us,  wold  enfect  all  a  toun, 
Thougn  it  as  gret  were  as  was  Ninive, 
Borne,  Alisaundre,  Troie,  or  other  three. 
His  sleightes  and  his  infinite  falsenesse 
Ther  coude  no  man  writen,  as  I  gesse, 
Thoifgh  that  he  mighte  live  a  thousand  yere ; 
In  all  this  world  of  falsenesse  n'is  his  pere. 
For  in  his  termes  he  wol  him  so  winde, 
And  speke  his  wordes  in  so  slie  a  kinde, 
Whan  he  comunen  shal  with  any  wight, 
That  he  wol  make  him  doten  anon  right,1 
But  it  a  fend  be,  as  himselven  is. 
Ful  many  a  man  hath  he  begiled  er  this, 
And  wol,  if  that  he  may  live  any  while : 
And  yet  men  gon  and  riden  many  a  mile 

l  Hake  him  mad  straightway. 
41* 


486  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         16456-16489. 

Him  for  to  seke,  and  have  his  acquaintance, 
Not  knowing  of  his  false  governance. 
And  if  you  lust  to  yeve  me  audience, 
I  wol  it  tellen  here  in  your  presence. 
But,  worshipful  Chanons  religious, 
Ne  demeth  not  that  I  sclander  your  hous, 
Although  that  my  tale  of  a  Chanon  be. 
Of  every  order  som  shrew  is  parde : 
And  God  forbede  that  all  a  compagnie 
Shuld  rewe  a  singuler  mannes  folie. 
To  sclander  you  is  no  thing  min  entent, 
But  to  correcten  that  is  mis  I  ment. 
This  tale  was  not  only  told  for  you, 
But  eke  for  other  mo  :  ye  wote  wel  how 
That  among  Cristes  aposteles  twelve 
Ther  was  no  traitour  but  Judas  himselve : 
Than  why  shuld  al  the  remenant  have  blame, 
That  giltles  were  ?  by  you  I  say  the  same. 
Save  only  this,  if  ye  wol  herken  me, 
If  any  Judas  in  your  covent  be, 
Remeveth  him  betimes,  I  you  rede, 
If  shame  or  los  may  causen  any  drede. 
And  be  no  thing  displesed  I  you  pray, 
But  in  this  cas  herkeneth  what  I  say. 

In  London  was  a  preest,  an  annuellere,1 
That  therin  dwelled  hadde  many  a  yere, 
Which  was  so  plesant  and  so  servisable 
Unto  the  wif,  ther  as  he  was  at  table, 
That  she  wold  suffer  him  no  thing  to  pay 
For  borde  ne  clothing,  went  he  never  so  gay; 
And  spending  silver  had  he  right  ynow: 
Therof  no  force ;  I  wol  proceed  as  now, 
And  tellen  forth  my  tale  of  the  Chanon, 
That  broughte  this  preest  to  confusion. 

1  They  were  called  annuelleres,  not  from  their  receiving  a  yearly 
stipend,  as  the  Gloss,  explains  it,  but  from  their  being  employed  solely 
in  singing  annuals,  or  anniversary  Masses,  for  the  dead,  without  any  cure 
of  souls.  See  the  Stat.  30  Gdw.  III.  c.  viii.  where  the  Chapelleins  Paro- 
chiels  are  distinguished  from  others  chantanz  anuales,  et  a  cure  dcs  alines 
nient  entendantsr.  They  were  both  to  receive  yearly  stipends,  but  the 
former  was  allowed  to  take  six  marks,  and  the  latter  only  five.  Compare 
Stat.  2.  H.  V.  St.  2.  c.  2,  where  the  stipend  of  the  Chapellein  Paroc/iiel 
is  raised  to  eight  marks,  and  that  of  the  Chapellein  annueler  (he  is  so 
named  in  th«  statute)  to  seven. — Tyrwhilt. 


16490— L6531.     THE  CHANONES  YEMANNES  TALE.  487 

This  false  Chanon  came  upon  a  day 
Unto  the  preestes  chambre,  ther  he  lay, 
Beseeching  him  to  lene  him  a  certain1 
Of  gold,  and  he  wold  quite  it  him  again. 
Lene  me  a  mark,  quod  he,  but  dayes  three, 
And  at  my  day  I  wol  it  quiten  thee. 
And  if  it  so  be,  that  thou  finde  me  false, 
Another  day  hang  me  up  by  the  halse.2 

This  preest  him  toke  a  marke,  and  that  as  swith, 
And  this  Chanon  him  thanked  often  sith, 
And  toke  his  leve,  and  wente  forth  his  wey : 
And  at  the  thridde  day  brought  his  money ; 
And  to  the  preest  he  toke  his  gold  again, 
Wherof  this  preest  was  wonder  glad  and  fain. 

Certes,  quod  he,  nothing  anoieth  me 
To  lene  a  man  a  noble,  or  two,  or  three, 
Or  what  thing  were  in  my  possession, 
Whan  he  so  trewe  is  of  condition, 
That  in  no  wise  he  breken  wol  his  day: 
To  swiche  a  man  I  can  never  say  nay. 

"What  1  quod  this  Chanon,  shuld  I  be  untrewe  t 
Nay,  that  were  thing  fallen  al  of  the  newe. 
Trouth  is  a  thing  that  I  wol  ever  kepe 
Unto  the  day  in  which  that  I  shal  crepe 
Into  my  grave,  and  elles  God  forbede : 
Beleveth  this  as  siker3  as  your  crede. 
God  thanke  I,  and  in  good  time  be  it  sayde, 
That  ther  n'as  never  man  yet  evil  apayde 
For  gold  ne  silver  that  he  to  me  lent, 
Ne  never  falshede  in  min  herte  I  ment. 

And,  sire,  (quod  he)  now  of  my  privetee, 
Sin  ye  so  goodlich  have  ben  unto  me, 
And  kithed4  to  me  so  gret  gentillesse, 
Somwhat,  to  quiten  with  your  kindenesse, 
I  wol  you  shewe,  and  if  you  lust  to  lere 
I  wol  you  techen  pleinly  the  manere, 
How  I  can  werken  in  philosophie. 
Taketh  good  heed,  ye  shuln  wel  sen  at  eye, 
That  I  wol  do  a  maistrie  or  I  go. 

Ye  ?  quod  the  preest,  ye,  sire,  and  wol  ye  so  t 
Mary  therof  I  pray  you  nertily. 

At  your  commandement,  sire,  trewely, 

1  /.  e.,  a  certain  sum.  3  Neck. 

*  Surely.  *  Shewn. 


488  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         165S2-16573, 

Quod  the  Chanon,  and  elles  God  forbede. 
Lo,  how  this  thefe  coude  his  service  bede.1 

Ful  soth  it  is  that  swiohe  profered  service 
Stink eth,  as  witnessen  thise  olde  wise ; 
And  that  ful  sone  I  wol  it  verifie 
In  this  Chanon,  rote  of  all  trecherie, 
That  evermore  delight  hath  and  gladnesse 
(Swiche  fendly  thoughtes  in  liis  herte  empresse) 
How  Cristes  peple  he  may  to  meschief  bring. 
God  kepe  us  from  his  false  dissimuling. 
Nought  wiste  this  preest  with  whom  that  he  delt> 
Ne  of  his  harme  coming  nothing  he  felt. 
O  sely  preest,  o  sely  innocent, 
With  covetise  anon  thou  shalt  be  blent ; 
O  graceles,  ful  blind  is  thy  conceite, 
For  nothing  art  thou  ware  of  the  disceite, 
Which  that  this  fox  yshapen  hath  to  thee ; 
His  wily  wrenches  thou  ne  mayst  not  flee. 
Wherfore  to  go  to  the  conclusion 
That  referreth  to  thy  confusion, 
Unhappy  man,  anon  I  wol  me  hie 
To  tellen  thin  unwit  and  thy  folie, 
And  eke  the  falsenesse  of  that  other  wretch, 
As  ferforth  as  that  my  conning  wol  stretch. 

This  Chanon  was  my  lord,  ye  wolden  wene  ; 
Sire  hoste,  in  faith,  and  by  the  heven  quene, 
It  was  another  Chanon,  and  not  he, 
That  can  an  hundred  part  more  sabtiltoe. 
He  hath  betraied  folkes  many  a  time ; 
Of  his  falsenesse  it  dulleth  me  to  rime. 
Ever  whan  that  I  speke  of  his  falshede 
For  shame  of  him  my  chekes  waxen  rede ; 
Algates  they  beginnen  for  to  glowe, 
For  rednesse  have  I  non,  right  wel  I  knowe, 
In  my  visage,  for  fumes  diverse 
Of  metals,  which  ye  have  herd  me  reherse, 
Consumed  han  and  wasted  my  rednesse. 
Now  take  hede  of  this  Chanons  cursednesse. 

Sire,  quod  the  Chanon,  let  your  yeman  gon 
For  quiksilver,  that  we  it  had  anon ; 
And  let  him  bringen  unces  two  or  three ; 
And  whan  he  conieth,  as  faste  shul  ye  see 

»  Offer. 


16574-16615.     THE  CHANONES  YEMANNES  TALE.  489 

A  wonder  thing,  -which  ye  saw  never  er  this. 

Sire,  quod  the  preest,  it  shal  be  don  ywis. 
He  bad  his  servant  fetchen  him  this  thing, 
And  he  al  redy  was  at  his  bidding, 
And  went  him  forth,  and  came  anon  again 
"With  this  quiksilver,  shortly  for  to  sain, 
And  toke  thise  unces  three  to  the  Chanoun; 
And  he  hem  laide  wel  and  faire  adoun, 
And  bad  the  servant  coles  for  to  bring, 
That  he  anon  might  go  to  his  werking. 

The  coles  right  anon  weren  yfet, 
And  this  Chanon  toke  out  a  crosselet 
Of  his  bosome,  and  shewed  it  to  the  preest. 
This  instrument,  quod  he,  which  that  thou  seesfc, 
Take  in  thyn  bond,  and  put  thyself  therin 
Of  this  quiksilver  an  unce,  and  here  begin 
In  the  name  of  Crist  to  wex  a  philosophre. 
Ther  be  ful  fewe,  which  that  I  wolde  profit* 
To  shewen  hem  thus  muche  of  my  science ; 
For  here  shul  ye  see  by  experience, 
That  this  quiksilver  I  wol  mortifie, 
Eight  in  your  sight  anon  withouten  lie, 
And  make  it  as  good  silver  and  as  fine, 
As  ther  is  any  in  your  purse  or  mine, 
Or  elles  wher ;  and  make  it  malliable ; 
And  elles  holdeth  me  false  and  unable 
Amonges  folk  for  ever  to  appere. 

I  have  a  pouder  here  that  cost  me  dere, 
Shal  make  all  good,  for  it  is  cause  of  all 
My  conning,  which  that  I  you  shewen  shall. 
Voideth  your  man,  and  let  him  be  therout; 
And  shet  the  dore,  while  we  ben  about 
Our  privetee,  that  no  man  us  espie, 
While  that  we  werke  in  this  philosophia. 

All,  as  he  bade,  fulfilled  was  in  dede. 
This  ilke  servant  anon  right  out  yede, 
And  his  maister  shette  the  dore  anon, 
And  to  hir  labour  spedily  they  gon. 

This  preest  at  this  cursed  Chanons  bidding, 
Upon  the  fire  anon  he  set  this  thing, 
And  blew  the  fire,  and  besied  him  fui  fast. 
And  this  Chanon  into  the  crosselet1  cast 

1  Crucible. 


490  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         1C616-16657. 

A  pouder,  n'ot  I  never  wherof  it  was 

Yiuade,  other  of  chalk,  other  of  glas, 

Or  somwhat  elles,  was  not  worth  a  flie, 

To  blinden  with  this  preest ;  and  bade  him  hie 

The  coles  for  to  couchen  all  above 

The  crosselet;  for  in  tokening  I  thee  love 

(Quod  this  Chanon)  thine  owen  hondes  two 

Shal  werken  all  thing  which  that  here  is  do. 

Grand  mercy,  quod  the  preest,  and  was  ful  glad, 
And  couched1  the  coles  as  the  Chanon  bad. 
And  while  he  besy  was,  this  fendly  wretch, 
This  false  Chanon  (the  foule  fend  him  fetch) 
Out  of  his  bosom  toke  a  bechen  cole, 
In  which  ful  subtilly  was  made  an  hole, 
And  therin  put  was  of  silver  limaile2 
An  unce,  and  stopped  was  withouten  faile 
The  hole  with  wax,  to  kepe  the  limaile  in. 

And  understandeth,  that  this  false  gin 
Was  not  made  ther,  but  it  was  made  before ; 
And  other  thinges  I  shal  tell  you  more 
Hereafterward,  which  that  he  with  him  brought; 
Er  he  came  ther,  him  to  begile  he  thought, 
And  so  he  did,  or  that  they  went  atwin : 
Til  he  had  torned  him,  coud  he  not  blin.s 
It  dulleth  me,  whan  that  I  of  him  speke; 
On  his  falshede  fain  wold  I  me  awreke, 
If  I  wist  how,  but  he  is  here  and  ther, 
He  is  so  variaunt,  he  abit  no  wher. 

But  takisth  hede,  sires,  now  for  Goddes  love. 
He  toke  his  cole,  of  which  I  spake  above, 
And  in  his  hond  he  bare  it  prively, 
And  whiles  the  preest  couched  besily 
The  coles,  as  I  tolde  you  er  this, 
This  Chanon  sayde;  frend,  ye  don  amis; 
This  is  not  couched  as  it  ought  to  be, 
But  sone  I  shal  amenden  it,  quod  he. 
Now  let  me  meddle  therwith  but  a  while, 
For  of  you  have  I  pitee  by  Seint  Gile. 
Ye  ben  right  hot,  I  see  wel  how  ye  swete ; 
Have  here  a  cloth  and  wipe  away  the  wete. 

And  whiles  that  the  preest  wiped  his  face, 
This  Chanon  toke  his  cole,  with  sory  grace, 

i  Laid.  a  Filings.  *  Cease. 


16658-16699.    THE  CHANONES  YEMANNES  TALE.  491 

And  laied  it  above  on  the  midward 

Of  the  crosselet,  and  blew  wel  afterward, 

Til  that  the  coles  gonnen  fast  to  bren. 

Now  yeve  us  drinke,  quod  this  Chanon  then, 
As  switlie  all  shal  be  wel,  I  undertake. 
Sitte  we  doun,  and  let  us  mery  make. 
And  whanne  that  this  Chanones  bechen  cole 
Was  brent,  all  the  limaile  out  of  the  hole 
Into  the  crosselet  anon  fell  adoun ; 
And  so  it  muste  nedes  by  resoun, 
Sin  it  above  so  even  couched  was ; 
But  therof  wist  the  preest  nothing,  alas ! 
He  demed  all  the  coles  ylike  good, 
for  of  the  sleight  he  nothing  understood. 

And  whan  this  Alkymistre  saw  his  time, 
Eiseth  up,  sire  preest,  quod  he,  and  stondeth  by  me ; 
And  for  I  wote  wel  ingot  have  ye  non, 
Goth,  walketh  forth,  and  bringeth  a  chalk  ston ; 
For  I  wol  make  it  of  the  same  shap, 
That  is  an  ingot,  if  I  may  have  hap. 
Bring  eke  with  you  a  bolle1  or  elles  a  panne 
Ful  of  water,  and  ye  shul  wel  see  thanne 
How  that  our  besinesse  shal  thrive  and  preve. 
And  yet,  for  ye  shul  have  no  misbeleve 
No  wrong  conceit  of  me  in  your  absence, 
I  ne  wol  not  ben  out  of  your  presence, 
But  go  with  you,  and  come  with  you  again. 

The  chambre  dore,  shortly  for  to  sain, 
They  opened  and  shet,  and  went  hir  wey, 
And  forth  with  hem  they  caried  the  key, 
And  camen  again  withouten  any  delay. 
What  shuld  I  tarien  all  the  longe  day  ? 
He  toke  the  chalk,  and  shope  it  in  the  wise 
Of  an  ingot,  as  I  shal  you  devise ; 
I  say,  he  toke  out  of  his  owen  sieve 
A  teine2  of  silver  (yvel  mote  he  cheve3) 
Which  that  ne  was  but  a  just  unce  of  weight. 
And  taketh  heed  now  of  his  cursed  sleight; 
He  shop  his  ingot,  in  length  and  in  brede 
Of  thilke  teine,  withouten  any  drede, 
So  slily,  that  the  preest  it  not  espide ; 
And  in  his  sieve  again  he  gan  it  hide ; 

BowL  •  A  thin  plate.  3  May  evil  be  hla. 


492  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  16700-16741. 

And  from  the  fire  he  toke  up  his  matere, 
And  in  the  ingot  it  put  with  mery  chere: 
And  in  the  water-vessel  he  it  cast, 
"Whan  that  him  list,  and  bad  the  preest  as  fast, 
Loke  what  ther  is ;  put  in  thin  hond  and  grope ; 
Thou  shalt  ther  finden  silver  as  I  hope. 
What,  divel  of  helle  !  shuld  it  elles  be  ? 
Shaving  of  silver,  silver  is  parde. 

He  put  his  hond  in,  and  toke  up  a  teine 
Of  silver  fine,  and  glad  in  every  veine 
Was  this  preest,  whan  he  saw  that  it  was  so. 
Goddes  blessing,  and  his  mothers  also, 
And  alle  Halwes,  have  ye,  sire  Chanon, 
Sayde  this  preest,  and  I  hir  malison, 
But,  and  ye  voucnesauf  to  techen  me 
This  noble  craft  and  this  subtilitee, 
I  wol  be  your  in  all  that  ever  I  may. 

Quod  the  Chanon,  yet  wol  I  make  assay 
The  second  time,  that  ye  mow  taken  hede, 
And  ben  expert  of  this,  and  in  your  nede 
Another  day  assay  in  min  absence 
This  discipline,  and  this  crafty  science. 
Let  take  another  unce,  quod  he  tho, 
Of  quiksilver,  withouten  wordes  mo, 
And  do  therwith  as  ye  have  don  er  this 
With  that  other,  which  that  now  silver  is. 

The  preest  him  besieth  all  that  ever  he  can 
To  don  as  this  Chanon,  this  cursed  man, 
Commandeth  him,  and  faste  blewe  the  fire, 
For  to  come  to  the  effect  of  his  desire. 
And  this  Chanon  right  in  the  mene  while 
Al  redy  was  this  preest  eft1  to  begile, 
And  for  a  countenance  in  his  hond  bare 
An  holow  stikke,  (take  kepe  and  beware) 
In  the  ende  of  which  an  unce  and  no  more 
Of  silver  limaile  put  was,  as  before 
Was  in  his  cole,  and  stopped  with  wax  wel 
For  to  kepe  in  his  limaile  every  del. 
And  while  this  preest  was  in  his  besinesse, 
This  Chanon  with  his  stikke  gan  him  dress© 
To  him  anon,  and  his  pouder  cast  in, 
As  he  did  erst,  (the  devil  out  of  his  skia 

Again. 


16742-16783.    THE  CHANONES  YEMANNES  TALE.  493 

Him  tome,  I  pray  to  God,  for  his  falshede, 
For  he  was  ever  ialse  in  thought  and  dede) 
And  with  his  stikke,  above  the  crosselet, 
That  was  ordained  with  that  false  get, 
He  stirreth  the  coles,  til  relenten1  gan 
The  wax  again  the  fire,  as  every  man, 
But  he  a  fool  be,  wote  wel  it  mote  nede. 
And  all  that  in  the  stikke  was  out  yede, 
And  in  the  crosselet  hastily  it  fell. 

Now,  goode  sires,  what  wol  ye  bet  than  wel  I 
Whan  that  this  preest  was  thus  begiled  again, 
Supposing  nought  but  trouthe,  soth  to  sain, 
He  was  so  glad,  that  I  can  not  expresse 
In  no  manere  his  mirth  and  his  gladnesse, 
And  to  the  Chanon  he  prolered  eftsone 
Body  and  good :  ye,  quod  the  Chanon,  sone, 
Though  poure  I  be,  crafty  thou  shalt  me  finde: 
I  warne  thee  wel,  yet  is  ther  more  behinde. 

Is  ther  any  coper  here  within  1  sayd  he. 
Ye,  sire,  quod  the  preest,  I  trow  ther  be. 

Elles  go  beie  us  som,  and  that  as  swithe. 
Now,  goode  sire,  go  forth  thy  way  and  hie  the. 

He  went  his  way,  and  with  the  coper  he  came, 
And  this  Chanon  it  in  his  hondes  name, 
And  of  that  coper  weyed  out  an  unce. 
To  simple  is  my  tonge  to  pronounce, 
As  minister  of  my  wit,  the  doublenesse 
Of  this  Chanon,  rote  of  all  curse  dnesse. 
He  semed  frendly,  to  hem  that  knew  him  nought, 
But  he  was  fendly,  both  in  werk  and  thought. 
It  werieth  me  to  tell  of  his  falsenesse; 
And  natheles  yet  wol  I  it  expresse, 
To  that  entent  men  may  beware  therby, 
And  for  non  other  cause  trewely 

He  put  this  coper  into  the  crosselet, 
And  on  the  fire  as  swithe  he  hath  it  set, 
And  cast  in  pouder,  and  made  the  preest  to  blow, 
And  in  his  werking  for  to  stoupen  low, 
As  he  did  erst,  and  all  n'as  but  a  jape ; 
Bight  as  him  list  the  preest  he  made  his  ape. 
And  afterward  in  the  ingot  he  it  cast, 
And  in  the  panne  put  it  at  the  last 

Melt 
42 


494  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         16784-18827. 

Of  water,  and  in  he  put  his  owen  hond ; 
And  in  his  sieve,  as  ye  beioren  hond 
Herde  me  tell,  he  had  a  silver  teine; 
He  slily  toke  it  out,  this  cursed  heine, 
(Unweting  this  preest  of  his  false  craft) 
And  in  the  pannes  botome  he  it  laft. 
And  in  the  water  rombleth  to  and  fro, 
And  wonder  prively  toke  up  also 
The  coper  teine,  (not  knowing  thilke  preest) 
And  hid  it,  and  him  hente  by  the  brest, 
And  to  him  spake,  and  thus  said  in  his  game ; 
Stoupeth  adoun;  by  God  ye  be  to  blame; 
Helpeth  me  now,  as  I  did  you  whilere ; 
Put  in  your  hond,  and  loketh  what  is  there. 

This  preest  toke  up  this  silver  teine  anon; 
And  thanne  said  the  Chanon,  let  us  gon 
With  thise  three  teines  which  that  we  han  wrought, 
To  som  goldsmith,  and  wete  if  they  ben  ought: 
For  by  my  faith  I  n'olde  for  my  hood 
But  if  they  weren  silver  fine  and  good, 
And  that  as  swithe  wel  preved  shal  it  be 

Unto  the  goldsmith  with  thise  teines  three 
They  went  anon,  and  put  hem  in  assay 
To  fire  and  hammer :  might  no  man  say  nay, 
But  that  they  weren  as  hem  ought  to  be. 

This  soted  preest,  who  was  gladder  than  he  ? 
Was  never  brid  gladder  agains  the  day, 
Ne  nightingale  in  the  seson  of  May 
Was  never  non,  that  list  better  to  sing, 
Ne  lady  lustier  in  carolling, 
Or  for  to  speke  of  love  and  womanhede, 
Ne  knight  in  armes  don  a  hardy  dede 
To  stonden  in  grace  of  his  lady  dere, 
Than  hadde  this  preest  this  craft  for  to  lere ; 
And  to  the  Chanon  thus  he  spake  and  seid ; 
For  the  love  of  God,  that  for  us  alle  deied, 
And  as  I  may  deserve  it  unto  you, 
What  shal  this  receit  cost  1  telleth  me  now. 

By  our  lady,  quod  this  Chanon,  it  is  dere. 
I  warne  you  wel,  that,  save  I  and  a  frere, 
In  Englelond  ther  can  no  man  it  make. 

No  force,  quod  he ;  now,  sire,  for  Goddes  sake, 
What  shall  I  pay  ?  telleth  me,  I  you  pray. 

Ywis,  quod  he,  it  is  ful  dere  I  say. 


16828-16871.    THE  CHANONES  YEMANNES  TALE.  490 

Sire,  at  o  word,  if  that  you  list  it  have, 
Ye  shal  pay  fourty  pound,  so  God  me  save; 
And  n'ere  the  frendship  that  ye  did  er  this 
To  me,  ye  shulden  payen  more  ywis. 

This  preest  the  sum  of  fourty  pound  anon 
Of  nobles  fet,  and  toke  hem  everich  on 
To  this  Chanon,  for  this  ilke  receit. 
All  his  werking  n'as  but  fraud  and  deceit. 

Sire  preest,  he  said,  I  kepe  for  to  have  no  looa 
Of  my  craft,  for  I  wold  it  were  kept  cloos; 
And  as  ye  love  me,  kepeth  it  secree : 
For  if  men  knewen  all  my  subtiltee, 
By  God  they  wolden  have  so  gret  envie 
To  me,  because  of  my  philosophic, 
I  shuld  be  ded,  ther  were  non  other  way. 

God  it  forbede,  quod  the  preest,  what  ye  say 
Yet  had  I  lever  spenden  all  the  good 
"Which  that  I  have,  (and  elles  were  I  wood) 
Than  that  ye  shuld  fallen  in  swiche  meschefe. 

For  your  good  will,  sire,  have  ye  right  good  prefe, 
Quod  the  Chanon,  and  farewel,  grand  mercy. 
He  went  his  way.  and  never  the  preest  him  sey 
After  that  day:  and  whan  that  this  preest  shold 
Maken  assay,  at  swiche  time  as  he  wold, 
Of  this  receit,  farewel,  it  n'olde  not  be 
Lo,  thus  bejaped  and  begiled  was  he; 
Thus  maketh  he  his  introduction 
To  bringen  folk  to  hir  destruction. 

Considereth,  sires,  how  that  in  eche  estate 
Betwixen  men  and  gold  ther  is  debat, 
So  ferforth  that  unnethes  is  ther  non. 
This  multiplying  so  blint  many  on, 
That  in  good  faith  I  trowe  that  it  be 
The  cause  gretest  of  swiche  scarsitee. 
Thise  philosophres  speke  so  mistily 
In  this  craft,  that  men  cannot  come  therby, 
For  any  wit  that  men  have  now  adayes. 
They  mow  wel  chateren,  as  don  thise  jayes, 
And  in  hir  termes  set  hir  lust  and  peine, 
But  to  hir  \ .  irpos  shul  they  never  atteine. 
A  man  may  lightly  lerne,  if  he  have  ought, 
To  multiplie,  and  bring  his  good  to  nought. 
Lo,  swiche  a  lucre  is  in  this  lusty  game ; 
A  mannes  mirth  it  wol  turne  al  to  grame,1 
»  Grief. 


496  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.        16872-16913. 

And  emptien  also  gret  and  hevy  purses, 
And  maken  folk  for  to  purchasen  curses 
Of  hem,  that  han  therto  hir  good  yient. 
O,  fy  for  shame,  they  that  hau  be  brent, 
Alas  !  can  they  not  flee  the  fires  hete  1 
Ye  that  it  use,  I  rede  that  ye  it  lete, 
Lest  ye  lese  all ;  for  bet  than  never  is  late: 
Never  to  thriven,  were  to  long  a  date. 
Though  ye  prolle1  ay,  ye  shul  it  never  find: 
Ye  ben  as  bold  as  is  Bayard  the  blind,2 
That  blondereth  forth,  and  peril  casteth  non: 
He  is  as  bold  to  renne  agains  a  ston, 
As  for  to  go  besides  in  the  way: 
So  faren  ye  that  multiplien,  I  say. 
If  that  your  eyen  cannot  seen  aright, 
Loketh  that  youre  mind  lacke  not  his  sight. 
For  though  ye  loke  never  so  brode  and  stare, 
Ye  shul  not  win  a  mite  on  that  chaffare, 
But  wasten  all  that  ye  may  rape  and  renne. 
Withdraw  the  fire,  lest  it  to  faste  brennej 
Medleth  no  more  with  that  art,  I  mene ; 
For  if  ye  don,  your  thrift  is  gon  ful  clene. 
And  right  as  swithe  I  wol  you  tellen  here 
What  philosophres  sain  in  this  matere. 

Lo,  thus  saith  Arnolde  of  the  newe  toun, 
As  his  Bosarie  maketh  mentioun, 
He  saith  right  thus,  withouten  any  lie; 
Ther  may  no  man  Mercurie  mortitie, 
But  it  be  with  his  brothers  knowleching. 

Xo,  how  that  he,  which  firstc  said  this  thing, 
Of  philosophres  father  was  Hermes: 
He  saith,  how  that  the  dragon  douteles 
Ne  dieth  not,  but  if  that  he  be  slain 
With  his  brother.    And  this  is  for  to  sain, 
By  the  dragon  Mercury,  and  non  other, 
He  understood,  and  brimstone  by  his  brother, 
That  out  of  Sol  and  Luna  were  ydrawe. 

And  therfore,  said  he,  take  heed  to  my  sawe. 
Let  no  man  besie  him  this  art  to  seche, 
But  if  that  he  the  entention  and  speche 
Of  philosophres  understonden  can ; 
And  if  he  do,  he  is  a  lewed  man. 

»  Prowl,  hunt  about.  -  /.  e.,  a  blind  hotae. 


16914-16939.     THE  CHANONES  YEMAKNES  TALE.  497 

For  this  science  and  this  conning  (quod  he) 
Is  of  the  secree  of  secrees1  parde. 

Also  ther  was  a  disciple  of  Plato, 
That  on  a  time  said  his  maister  to, 
As  his  book  Senior2  wol  bere  witnesse, 
And  this  was  his  demand  in  sothfastnesse : 
Telle  me  the  name  of  thilke  privee  ston. 

And  Plato  answerd  unto  him  anon ; 
Take  the  ston  that  Titanos  men  name. 
Which  is  that  ?  quod  he.    Magnetia  is  the  same, 
Saide  Plato.    Ye,  sire,  and  is  it  thus  1 
This  is  ignotum  per  ignotius. 
What  is  Magnetia,  good  sire,  I  pray  ? 

It  is  a  water  that  is  made,  I  say, 
Of  the  elementes  foure,  quod  Plato. 

Tell  me  the  rote,  good  sire,  quod  he  tho, 
Of  that  water,  if  that  it  be  your  will. 

Nay,  nay,  quod  Plato,  certain  that  I  n'ilL 
The  philosophres  were  sworne  everich  on, 
That  they  ne  shuld  discover  it  unto  non, 
Ne  in  no  book  it  write  in  no  manere; 
For  unto  God  it  is  so  lefe  and  dere, 
That  he  wol  not  that  it  discovered  be, 
But  wher  it  liketh  to  his  deitee 
Man  for  to  enspire,  and  eke  for  to  defende 
Whom  that  him  liketh;  lo,  this  is  the  ende. 

1  He  alludes  to  a  treatise,  entitled,  Secreta  Secretorum,  which  was  sup- 
posed to  contain  the  sum  of  Aristotle's  instructions  to  Alexander.  See 
Fabric.  Bibl.  Gr.  v.  ii.  p.  167.  It  was  very  popular  in  the  middle  ages. 
.JDgidius  de  Columna,  a  famous  divine  and  bishop,  about  the  latter  end 
of  the  xmth  century,  built  upon  it  his  book  De  Regimine  principum,  of 
which  our  Occleve  made  a  free  translation  in  English  verse,  and 
addressed  it  to  Henry  V.,  while  l'rince  of  Wales.  A  part  of  Lydgate's 
translation  of  the  Secreta  Secretorum  is  printed  in  Ashmole's  Theat. 
CUem.  Brit.  p.  397.  He  did  not  translate  more  than  about  half  of  it,  being 
prevented  by  death.  See  MS.  Hurl.  2251,  and  Tanner,  Bib.  Brit,  in  v. 
Ltdgate.  The  greatest  part  of  the  vnth  Book  of  Gower's  Con/.  Ainant. 
is  taken  from  this  supposed  work  of  Aristotle. — Tyrvhitt. 

2  The  book  alluded  to  is  printed  in  the  Theatrum  Chemirum,  vol.  v.,  p. 
219,  under  this  title,  "Scnioris  Zadith  fil.  Hamuelis  tabula  Chymica," 
The  story  which  follows  of  Plato  and  his  disciple  is  there  told  (p.  249), 
with  some  variations,  of  Salomon.  "  Dixit  Salomon  rex,  Recipe  lapidem 
qui  dicitur  Thitariot — Dixit  sapiens,  Assigna  mihi  ilium.  Dixit,  est 
corpus  magnesia: — Dixit,  quid  est  magnetia  r  liespondit,  magnetia  est 
aaua,  composita,"  &c. — Tynchitt. 

42* 


498  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         16940-16949. 

Than  this  conclude  I,  sin  that  God  of  heven 
Ne  wol  not  that  the  philosophres  neven, 
How  that  a  man  shal  come  unto  this  ston, 
I  rede  as  for  the  best  to  let  it  gon. 
For  who  so  maketh  God  his  adversary, 
As  for  to  werken  any  thing  in  contrary 
Of  his  will,  certes  never  shal  he  thrive, 
Though  that  he  multiply  terme  of  his  live. 
And  ther  a  point ;  for  ended  is  my  tale. 
God  send  every  good  man  bote  of  his  bale.1 

1  Help  for  his  evil  or  trouble. 


THE  MANCIPLES  PROLOGUE. 

16950-10977. 

Wete  ye  not  wher  stondeth  a  litel  toun, 

Which  that  ycleped  is  Bob  up  and  doun,1 

Under  the  blee,2  in  Canterbury  way? 

Ther  gan  our  hoste  to  jape  and  to  play, 

And  sayde;  sires,  what?    Dun  is  in  the  mire.8 

Is  ther  no  man  for  praiere  ne  for  hire, 

That  wol  awaken  our  felaw  behind  ? 

A  thefe  him  might  ful  lightly  rob  and  bind. 

See  how  he  nappeth,  see,  for  cockes  bones, 

As  he  wold  fallen  from  his  hors  atones. 

Is  that  a  coke  of  London,  with  meschance  ? 

Do  him  come  forth,  he  knoweth  his  penance; 

For  he  shal  tell  a  tale  by  my  fey, 

Although  it  be  not  worth  a  hotel  hey. 

Awake  thou  coke,  quod  he,  God  yeve  thee  sorwe, 

What  aileth  thee  to  slepen  by  the  morwe?4 

East  thou  had  fleen5  al  night,  or  art  thou  dronke? 

Or  hast  thou  with  som  quene  al  night  yswonke, 

So  that  thou  mayst  not  holden  up  thin  hed  ? 

This  coke,  that  was  ful  pale  and  nothing  red, 
Sayd  to  our  hoste ;  so  God  my  soule  blesse, 
As  ther  is  falle  on  me  swiche  hevinesse, 
N'ot  I  nat  why,  that  me  were  lever  to  slepe, 
Than  the  best  gallon  wine  that  is  in  Chepe. 

Wei,  quod  the  Manciple,  if  it  may  don  ese 
To  thee,  sire  Coke,  and  to  no  wight  displese, 
Which  that  here  rideth  in  this  compagnie, 
And  that  our  hoste  wol  of  his  curtesie, 

*  Not  marked  in  ordinary  maps.  2  A  forest  in  Kent. 

8  There  is  a  proverbial  saying :  "  As  dull  as  Dun  in  the  mire." 
4  This  must  be  understood  generally  for  the  day  lime;  as  it  was  then 
afternoon.     It  has  been  observed  in  the  Discourse,  etc.,  §  xiii.,  that,  in 
this  episode  of  the  Coke,  no  notice  is  taken  of  his  having  told  a  tale 
before. — Tyrwhilt.  *  Fleas. 


500  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  16978-17003. 

I  wol  as  now  excuse  thee  of  thy  tale ; 
For  in  good  faith  thy  visage  is  ful  pale: 
Thin  eyen  dasen,1  sothly  as  me  thinketh, 
And  wel  I  wot,  thy  breth  ful  soure  stinketh, 
That  sheweth  wel  thou  art  not  wel  disposed: 
Of  me  certain  thou  shalt  not  ben  yglosed. 
See  how  he  galpeth,2  lo,  this  dronken  wight, 
As  though  he  wold  us  swalow  anon  right. 
Hold  close  thy  mouth,  man,  by  thy  father  kin: 
The  devil  of  helle  set  his  foot  therin ! 
Thy  cursed  breth  enfecten  woll  us  alle : 
Fy  stinking  swine,  fy,  foul  mote  thee  befalls. 
A,  taketh  heed,  sires,  of  this  lusty  man. 
Now,  swete  sire,  wol  ye  just  at  the  fan  I3 
Therto,  me  thinketh,  ye  be  wel  yshape. 
I  trow  that  ye  have  dronken  win  of  ape,4 
And  that  is  whan  men  playen  with  a  straw. 

And  with  this  speche  the  coke  waxed  all  wraw, 
And  on  the  Manciple  he  gan  nod  fast 
For  lacke  of  speche ;  and  doun  his  hors  him  ca3t, 
Wher  as  he  lay,  til  that  men  him  up  toke. 
This  was  a  faire  chivachee  of  a  coke : 
Alas  that  he  ne  had  hold  him  by  his  ladel! 
And  er  that  he  agen  were  in  the  sadel, 
Ther  was  gret  shoving  bothe  to  and  fro 
To  lift  him  up,  and  mochel  care  and  wo, 
1  Dim.  2  Gapeth.  3  /. «,.,  ^rffl  you  tilt. 

4  The  explanation  in  the  Gloss,  of  this  and  the  preceding  passage, 
from  Mr.  Speght,  is  too  ridiculous  to  be  repeated.  \Vine  of  ape  I  under- 
stand to  mean  the  same  as  vim  de  singe  in  the  old  Calendrier  des  Bergiers. 
Sign.  1.  ii.  b.  The  author  is  treating  of  Physiognomy,  and  in  his  de- 
scription of  the  four  temperaments  he  mentions,  among  other  circum- 
stances, the  different  effects  of  wine  upon  them.  The  Cholerick,  he 
says,  a  vin  de  Lyon  ;  cest  a  dire,  quant  a  bien  ben  veult  tanser  noyser  et 
battre. — The  Sanguine,  a  tin  de  Singe ;  quant  a  plus  beu  tant  est  plut 
ioyeux. — In  the  same  manner  the  Phlegmatic  is  said  to  have  vin  de 
mouton,  and  the  Melancholick  vin  de  porceau. 

I  find  the  same  four  animals  applied  to  illustrate  the  effects  of  wine 
in  a  little  Rabbinical  tradition,  which  I  shall  transcribe  here  from 
Fabric.  Cod.  Pseudepig.  V.  T.  vol.  i.  p.  275.  J'ineas  plantanti  Koacho 
Satanam  sejunxisse  memorant,  qui,  dum  Koa  vites  plantaret,  mactaterit  apud 
illas  ovem,  leonem,  simiam,  et  suem :  Quod  principio  potus  viiii  homo  sit 
instar  ovis,  vinum  sumptum  efficiat  ex  homine  leonem,  largius  hauslum 
mutet  eum  in  saltanlem  simiam,  ad  ebrietatem  infusum  transformet  ilium  in 
pallidum  et  prostratam  suem.  See  also  Gesta  Jiomanorum,  c.  159,  where 
a  story  of  the  same  purport  is  quoted  from  Josephus,  in  libro  de  ca*u 
rerum  naturalium.—Tyrwhitt. 


17004-17045.       THE  MANCIPLES   PROLOGUE.  501 

So  unweldy  was  this  sely  palled  gost: 
And  to  the  Manciple  than  spake  our  host. 

Because  that  drinke  hath  domination 
Upon  this  man,  by  my  salvation 
I  trow  he  lewedly  wol  tell  his  tale. 
For  were  it  win,  or  old  or  moisty  ale, 
That  he  hath  dronke,  he  speketh  in  his  nose, 
And  sneseth  fast,  and  eke  he  hath  the  pose.1 
He  also  hath  to  don  more  than  ynough 
To  kepe  him  on  his  capel  out  of  the  slough: 
And  if  he  lalle  from  of  his  capel  eftsone, 
Than  shul  we  alle  have  ynough  to  done 
In  lifting  up  his  hevy  dronken  cors. 
Tell  on  thy  tale,  of  him  make  I  no  force. 

But  yet,  Manciple,  in  faith  thou  art  to  nice, 
Thus  openly  to  repreve  him  of  his  vice: 
Another  day  he  wol  paraventure 
Becleimen  thee,  and  bring  thee  to  the  lure: 
I  mene,  he  speken  wol  of  smale  thinges, 
As  for  to  pinchen  at  thy  rekeninges, 
That  were  not  honest,  if  it  came  to  prefe. 

Quod  the  Manciple,  that  were  a  gret  meschefe: 
So  might  he  lightly  bring  me  in  the  snare. 
Yet  had  I  lever  payen  for  the  mare, 
Which  he  rit  on,  than  he  shuld  with  me  strive. 
I  wol  not  wrathen  him,  so  mote  I  thrive ; 
That  that  I  spake,  I  sayd  it  in  my  bourd.2 
And  wete  ye  what?    I  have  here  in  my  gourd 
A  draught  of  win,  ye  of  a  ripe  grape, 
And  right  anon  ye  shul  seen  a  good  jape. 
This  coKe  shal  drinke  therof,  if  that  I  may ; 
Up  peine  of  my  lif  he  wol  not  say  nay. 

And  certainly,  to  tellen  as  it  was, 
Of  this  vessell  the  coke  dranke  fast,  (alas ! 
What  nedeth  it  ?  he  dranke  ynough  beforne) 
And  whan  he  hadde  pouped  in  his  home, 
To  the  Manciple  he  toke  the  gourd  again. 
And  of  that  drinke  the  coke  was  wonder  fain, 
And  thonked  him  in  swiche  wise  as  he  coude. 

Than  gan  our  hoste  to  laughen  wonder  loude, 
And  sayd ;  I  see  wel  it  is  necessary  » 

Wher  that  we  gon  good  drinke  with  us  to  cary; 

>  Ehcum,  catarrh.  *  In  jest 


502  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         17046-17081. 

For  that  wol  turnen  rancour  and  disese 

To  accord  and  love,  and  many  a  wrong  apese. 

O  Bacchus,  Bacchus,  blessed  be  thy  name, 
That  so  canst  turnen  ernest  into  game ; 
Worship  and  thonke  be  to  thy  deitee. 
Of  that  matere  ye  get  no  more  of  me. 
Tell  on  thy  tale,  Manciple,  I  thee  pray. 

Wei,  sire,  quod  he,  now  herkeneth  what  I  say. 


%\t  $gtanti£lM  % al*. 


Whan  Phebus  dwelled  here  in  erth  adoun, 

As  olde  bookes  maken  mentioun, 

He  was  the  moste  lusty  bacheler 

Of  all  this  world,  and  eke  the  best  archer. 

He  slow  Phiton  the  serpent,  as  he  lay 

Sleping  agains  the  sonne  upon  a  day ; 

And  many  another  noble  worthy  dede 

He  with  his  bow  wrought,  as  men  mowen  rede. 

Playen  he  coude  on  every  minstralcie, 
And  singen,  that  it  was  a  melodie 
To  heren  of  his  clere  vois  the  soun. 
Certes  the  king  of  Thebes,  Amphioun, 
That  with  his  singing  walled  the  citee, 
Coud  never  singen  half  so  wel  as  he. 
Therto  he  was  the  semelieste  man, 
That  is  or  was,  sithen  the  world  began; 
What  nedeth  it  his  feture  to  descrive? 
For  in  this  world  n'is  non  so  faire  on  live. 
He  was  therwith  fulfilled  of  gentillesse, 
Of  honour,  and  of  parfite  worthinesse. 

This  Phebus,  that  was  flour  of  bachelerie, 
As  wel  in  fredom,  as  in  chivalrie, 
For  his  disport,  in  signe  eke  of  victorie 
Of  Phiton,  so  as  telleth  us  the  storie, 
Was  wont  to  beren  in  his  hond  a  bowe. 
Now  had  this  Phebus  in  his  hous  a  crowe. 
Which  in  a  cage  he  fostred  many  a  day, 
And  taught  it  speken,  as  men  teche  a  jay. 


17082-17123.  THE  MAKCIPLES  TALE.  503 

Whit  was  this  crowe,  as  is  a  snow-whit  swan, 
And  contrefete  the  speche  of  every  man 
He  coude,  whan  he  shulde  tell  a  tale. 
Therwith  in  all  this  world  no  nightingale 
Ne  coude  by  an  hundred  thousand  del 
Singen  so  wonder  merily  and  wel. 

Now  had  this  Phebus  in  his  hous  a  wifj 
Which  that  he  loved  more  than  his  lif, 
And  night  and  day  did  ever  his  diligence 
Hire  for  to  plese,  and  don  hire  reverence: 
Save  only,  if  that  I  the  soth  shal  sain, 
Jelous  he  was,  and  wold  have  kept  hire  fain, 
For  him  were  loth  yjaped  for  to  be; 
And  so  is  every  wight  in  swiche  degree; 
But  all  for  nought,  for  it  availeth  nought. 
A  good  wif,  that  is  clene  of  werk  and  thought^ 
Shuld  not  be  kept  in  non  await  certain: 
And  trewely  the  labour  is  in  vain 
To  kepe  a  shrewe,  for  it  wol  not  be. 
This  hold  I  for  a  veray  nicetee, 
To  spillen1  labour  for  to  kepen  wives; 
Thus  writen  olde  clerkes  in  hir  lives. 

But  now  to  purpos,  as  I  first  began. 
This  worthy  Phebus  doth  all  that  he  can 
To  plesen  hire,  wening  thurgh  swiche  plesance, 
And  for  his  manhood  and  his  governance, 
That  no  man  shulde  put  him  from  hire  grace: 
But  God  it  wote,  ther  may  no  man  embrace 
As  to  destreine  a  thing,  which  that  nature 
Hath  naturelly  set  in  a  creature. 

Take  any  brid,  and  put  it  in  a  cage, 
And  do  all  thin  entente,  and  thy  corage, 
To  foster  it  tendrely  with  mete  and  drinke 
Of  alio  deintees  that  thou  canst  bethinke, 
And  kepe  it  al  so  clenely  as  thou  may; 
Although  the  cage  of  gold  be  never  so  gay, 
Yet  had  this  brid,  by  twenty  thousand  fold, 
Lever  in  a  forest,  that  is  wilde  and  cold, 
Gon  eten  wormes,  and  swiche  wretchednesse. 
For  ever  this  brid  will  don  his  besinesse 
To  escape  out  of  his  cage  whan  that  he  may: 
His  libertee  the  brid  desireth  ay. 

»  Waste. 


504  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         17124-17165. 

Let  take  a  cat,  and  foster  hire  with  milke 
And  tendre  flesh,  and  make  hire  couch e  of  silke, 
And  let  hire  see  a  mous  go  by  the  wall, 
Anon  she  weiveth  milke  and  flesh,  and  all, 
And  every  deintee  that  is  in  that  hous, 
Swiche  appetit  hath  she  to  ete  the  mous. 
Lo,  here  hath  kind  hire  domination, 
And  appetit  flemeth1  discretion. 

A  she-wolf  hath  also  a  vilains  kind ; 
The  lewedeste  wolf  that  she  may  find, 
Or  lest  of  reputation,  wol  she  take 
In  time  whan  hire  lust  to  have  a  make.2 

All  thise  ensamples  speke  I  by  thise  men 
That  ben  untrewe,  and  nothing  by  women. 
For  men  have  ever  a  likerous  appetit 
On  lower  thing  to  parforme  hir  delit 
Than  on  hir  wives,  be  they  never  so  faire, 
Ne  never  so  trewe,  ne  so  debonaire. 
Flesh  is  so  newefangle,3  with  meschance, 
That  we  ne  con  in  nothing  have  plesance, 
That  souneth  unto  vertue  any  while. 

This  Phebus,  which  that  thought  upon  no  gile, 
Disceived  was  for  all  his  jolitee: 
For  under  him  another  hadde  she, 
A  man  of  litel  reputation, 
Nought  worth  to  Phebus  in  comparison: 
The  more  harme  is;  it  happeth  often  so; 
Of  which  ther  cometh  mochel  harme  and  wo. 

And  so  befell,  whan  Phebus  was  absent, 
His  wif  anon  hath  for  hire  lemman  sent. 
Hire  lemman  1  certes  that  is  a  knavish  speche. 
Foryeve  it  me,  and  that  I  you  beseche. 

The  wise  Plato  sayth,  as  ye  mow  rede, 
The  word  must  nede  accorden  with  the  dede, 
If  men  shul  tellen  proprely  a  thing, 
The  word  must  cosin  be  to  the  werking. 
I  am  a  boistous  man,  right  thus  say  I ; 
Ther  is  no  difference  trewely 
Betwix  a  wif  that  is  of  high  degree, 
(If  of  hire  body  dishonest  she  be) 
And  any  poure  wenche,  other  than  this, 
(IS  it  so  be  they  werken  both  amis) 

i  Banisbeth.  *  Mate.  3  Desirous  of  novelty. 


17166-17207.  THE  MANCIPLES  TALE.  505 

But,  for  the  gentil  is  in  estat  above, 

She  shal  be  cleped  his  lady  and  his  love  j 

And,  for  that  other  is  a  poure  woman, 

She  shal  be  cleped  his  wenche  and  his  lemman: 

And  God  it  wote,  min  owen  dere  brother, 

Men  lay  as  low  that  on  as  lith  that  other. 

Right  so  betwix  a  titeles  tiraunt 
And  an  outlawe,  or  elles  a  thefe  erraunt, 
The  same  I  say,  ther  is  no  difference, 
(To  Alexander  told  was  this  sentence) 
But,  for  the  tyrant  is  of  greter  might 
By  force  of  meinie  for  to  sle  doun  right, 
And  brennen  hous  and  home,  and  make  all  plain, 
Lo,  therfore  is  he  cleped  a  capitain ; 
And,  for  the  outlawe  hath  but  smale  meinie, 
And  may  not  do  so  gret  an  harme  as  he, 
Ne  bring  a  contree  to  so  gret  meschiefe, 
Men  clepen  him  an  outlawe  or  a  thefe. 

But,  for  I  am  a  man  not  textuel, 
I  wol  not  tell  of  textes  never  a  del ; 
I  wol  go  to  my  tale,  as  I  began. 

Whan  Phebus  wif  had  sent  for  hire  lemman, 
Anon  they  wroughten  all  hir  lust  volage. 
This  white  crowe,  that  heng  ay  in  the  cage, 
Beheld  hir  werke,  and  sayde  never  a  word: 
And  whan  that  home  was  come  Phebus  the  lord, 
This  crowe  song,  cuckow,  cuckow,  cuckow.         [nowt 

What?  brid,  quod  Phebus,  what  song  singest  thou 
Ne  were  thou  wont  so  merily  to  sing, 
That  to  my  herte  it  was  a  rejoysing 
To  here  thy  vois  1  alas !  what  song  is  this  1 

By  God,  quod  he,  I  singe  not  amis. 
Phebus,  (quod  he)  for  all  thy  worthinesse, 
For  all  thy  beautee,  and  all  thy  gentillesse, 
For  all  thy  song,  and  all  thy  minstralcie, 
For  all  thy  waiting,  blered  is  thin  eye, 
With  on  of  litel  reputation, 
Not  worth  to  thee  as  in  comparison 
The  mountance1  of  a  gnat,  so  mote  I  thrive ; 
For  on  thy  bedde  thy  wif  I  saw  him  swive. 

What  wol  you  more  1  the  crowe  anon  him  told, 
By  sade  tokenes,  and  by  wordes  bold, 

i  Value. 


506  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         17208-17249. 

How  that  his  wif  had  don  hire  lecherie 
Him  to  gret  shame,  and  to  gret  vilanie  ; 
And  told  him  oft,  he  sawe  it  with  his  eyen. 

This  Phebus  ga'n  away  ward  for  to  wrien ; 
Him  thought  his  woful  herte  brast  atwo. 
His  bowe  he  bent,  and  set  therin  a  flo  ;* 
And  in  his  ire  he  hath  his  wif  yslain : 
This  is  the  effect,  ther  is  no  more  to  sain. 
For  sorwe  of  which  he  brake  his  minstralcie, 
Both  harpe  and  lute,  giterne,  and  sautrie ; 
And  eke  he  brake  his  arwes,  and  his  bowe  ; 
And  after  that  thus  spake  he  to  the  crowe. 

Traitour,  quod  he,  with  tonge  of  scorpion, 
Thou  hast  me  brought  to  my  confusion : 
Alas  that  I  was  wrought !  why  n'ere  I  dede  I 

O  dere  wif,  o  gemme  of  lustyhede, 
That  were  to  me  so  sade,  and  eke  so  trewe, 
Now  liest  thou  ded,  with  face  pale  of  hewe, 
Ful  gilteles,  that  durst  I  swere  ywis. 

O  rakel  hond,  to  do  so  foule  a  mis. 
O  troubled  wit,  o  ire  reccheles, 
That  unavised  smitest  gilteles. 

0  wantrust,  ful  of  false  suspecion, 
Wher  was  thy  wit  and  thy  discretion  ? 

O,  every  man  beware  of  rakelnesse, 
Ne  trowe  no  thing  withouten  strong  witnesses 
Smite  not  to  sone,  er  that  ye  weten  why, 
And  beth  avised  wel  and  sikerly, 
Or  ye  do  any  execution 
Upon  your  ire  for  suspecion. 
Alas !  a  thousand  folk  hath  rakel  ire 
Fully  fordon,2  and  brought  hem  in  the  mire. 
Alas !  for  sorwe  I  wol  myselven  sle. 

And  to  the  crowe,  o  false  thefe,  said  he, 

1  wol  thee  quite  anon  thy  false  tale. 
Thou  song  whilom,  like  any  nightingale, 
Now  shalt  thou,  false  thefe,  thy  song  forgon, 
And  eke  thy  white  fethers  everich  on, 

Ne  never  in  all  thy  lif  ne  shalt  thou  speke  ; 
Thus  shul  men  on  a  traitour  ben  awreke. 
Thou  and  thin  ofspring  ever  shul  be  blake, 
Ne  never  swete  noise  shul  ye  make, 

1  An  arrow.  8  Undone. 


17250-17293.  THE  MANCIPLES  TALE.  007 

But  ever  crie  ageins  tempest  and  rain, 
In  token,  that  thurgh  thee  my  wif  is  slain. 

And  to  the  crowe  he  stert,  and  that  anon, 
And  pulled  his  white  fethers  everich  on, 
And  made  him  blak,  and  raft  him  all  his  song 
And  eke  his  speche,  and  out  at  dore  him  flong 
Unto  the  devil,  which  I  him  betake ; 
And  for  this  cause  ben  alle  crowes  blake. 

Lordings,  by  this  ensample,  I  you  pray, 
Beth  ware,  and  taketh  kepe  what  that  ye  say ; 
Ne  telleth  never  man  in  all  your  lif, 
How  that  another  man  hath  dight  his  wif; 
He  wol  you  haten  mortally  certain. 
Dan  Salomon,  as  wise  clerkes  sain, 
Techeth  a  man  to  kepe  his  tonge  wel ; 
But  as  I  sayd,  I  am  not  textuel. 
But  natheles  thus  taughte  me  my  dame ; 
My  sone,  thinke  on  the  crowe  a  Goddes  name. 
My  sone,  kepe  wel  thy  tonge,  and  kepe  thy  frend 
A  wicked  tonge  is  werse  than  a  fend : 
My  sone,  from  a  fende  men  may  hem  blesse. 
My  sone,  God  of  his  endeles  goodnesse 
Walled  a  tonge  with  teeth,  and  lippes  eke, 
For  man  shuld  him  avisen  what  he  speke. 
My  sone,  ful  often  for  to  mochel  speche 
Hath  many  a  man  ben  spilt,  as  clerkes  teche; 
But  for  a  litel  speche  avisedly 
Is  no  man  shent,  to  speken  generally. 
My  sone,  thy  tonge  shuldest  thou  restreine 
At  alle  time,  but  whan  thou  dost  thy  peine 
To  speke  of  God  in  honour  and  prayere. 
The  firste  vertue,  sone,  if  thou  wolt  lere, 
Is  to  restreine,  and  kepen  wel  thy  tonge  ; 
Thus  leren  children,  whan  that  they  be  yonge. 
My  sone,  of  mochel  speking  evil  avised, 
Ther  lesse  speking  had  ynough  suffised, 
Cometh  mochel  harme  ;  thus  was  me  told  and  taught ; 
In  mochel  speche  sinne  wanteth  naught. 
"Wost  thou  wherof  a  rakel  tonge  serveth  1 
Bight  as  a  swerd  forcutteth  and  forkerveth 
An  arme  atwo,  my  dere  sone,  right  so 
A  tonge  cutteth  frendship  all  atwo. 
A  jangler  is  to  God  abhominable. 
Bede  Salomon,  so  wise  and  honourable, 


508  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.  17294-17311. 

Eede  David  in  his  Psalmes,  rede  Senek. 

My  sone,  speke  not,  but  with  thyn  hed  thou  beck, 

Dissimule  as  thou  were  defe,  if  that  thou  here 

A  janglour  speke  of  perilous  matere. 

The  Fleming  sayth,  and  lerne  if  that  thee  lest, 

That  litel  jangling  causeth  mochel  rest. 

My  sone,  if  thou  no  wicked  word  hast  said, 

Thee  thar  not  dreden  for  to  be  bewraid  ; 

But  he  that  hath  missayd,  I  dare  wel  sain, 

He  may  by  no  way  clepe  his  word  again.1 

Thing  that  is  sayd  is  sayd,  and  forth  it  goth, 

Though  him  repent,  or  be  him  never  so  loth, 

He  is  his  thral,  to  whom  that  he  hath  sayd 

A  tale,  of  which  he  is  now  evil  apaid. 

My  sone,  beware,  and  be  non  auctour  newe 

Of  tidings,  whether  they  ben  false  or  trewe ; 

Wher  so  thou  come,  amonges  high  or  lowe, 

Kepe  wel  thy  tonge,  and  thinke  upon  the  crowe. 

1  liccull  what  be  has  said. 


509 
THE  PERSONES  PROLOGUE. 

17312-17341. 

By  that  the  Manciple  had  his  tale  ended, 
The  sonne  iro  the  south  line  was  descended 
So  lowe,  that  it  ne  was  not  to  my  sight 
Degrees  nine  and  twenty  as  of  hight.1  * 
Foure  of  the  clok  it  was  tho,  as  I  gesse, 
For  enleven  foot,  a  litel  more  or  lesse, 
My  shadow  was  at  thilke  time,  as  there, 
Of  swiche  feet  as  my  lengthe  parted  were 
In  six  leet  equal  of  proportion. 
Therwith  the  mones  exaltation, 
In  mene  Libra,  alway  gan  ascende, 
As  we  were  entring  at  the  thorpes2  ende. 
For  which  our  hoste,  as  he  was  wont  to  gie, 
As  in  this  cas,  our  jolly  compaguie, 
Said  in  this  wise ;  lordings,  everich  on, 
Now  lacketh  us  no  tales  mo  than  on. 
Fulfilled  is  my  sentence  and  my  decree ; 
I  trowe  that  we  han  herd  of  eche  degree. 
Almost  fulfilled  is  myn  ordinance ; 
I  pray  to  God  so  yeve  him  right  good  chance, 
That  telleth  us  this  tale  lustily. 

Sire  preest,  quod  he,  art  thou  a  vicary  I3 
Or  art  thou  a  Person  ?  say  soth  by  thy  fay. 
Be  what  thou  be,  ne  breke  thou  not  our  play; 
For  every  man,  save  thou,  hath  told  his  tale. 
TJnbokel,  and  shew  us  what  is  in  thy  male.4 
For  trewely  me  thinketh  by  thy  chere, 
Thou  shuldest  knitte  up  wel  a  gret  matere. 
Tell  us  a  fable  anon,  for  cockes  bones.* 

This  Person  him  answered  al  at  ones; 

1  See  Tyrwhitt's  notes.  8  Village. 

»  A  vicar.  «  WulM. 

»  The  corruption  of  a  familiar  oath,  which  is  more  openly  expressed 
in  vs.  12629. 

43* 


510  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES.         17342-17357-. 

Thou  getest  fable  non  ytold  for  me, 

For  Poule,  that  writeth  unto  Timothe, 

Repreveth  hem  that  weiven  sothfastnesse, 

And  tellen  fables,  and  swiche  wretchednesse. 

Why  shuld  I  sowen  draf  out  of  my  fist, 

Whan  I  may  sowen  whete,  if  that  me  list  1 

For  which  I  say,  if  that  you  list  to  here 

Moralitee,  and  vertuous  matere, 

And  than  that  ye  wol  yeve  me  audience, 

I  wold  ful  fain  at  Cristes  reverence 

Don  you  plesance  leful,  as  I  can. 

But  trusteth  wel,  I  am  a  sotherne  man, 

I  cannot  geste,  rom,  ram,  ruf,1  by  my  letter, 

And,  God  wote,  rime  hold  I  but  litel  better. 

And  therfore  if  you  list,  I  wol  not  glose, 

I  wol  you  tell  a  litel  tale  in  prose, 

1  This  is  plainly  a  contemptuous  manner  of  describing  alliterative 
poetry  ;  and  the  Person's  prefatory  declaration  that  "  he  is  a  Southern 
man,"  would  lead  one  to  imagine  that  compositions  in  that  style  were, 
at  this  time,  chiefly  confined  to  the  Northern  provinces.  It  was  ob- 
served long  ago  by  William  of  Malmesbury,  1.  iii.  Pontif.  Angl.,  that  the 
language  of  the  North  of  England  was  so  harsh  and  unpolished,  as  to 
be  scarce  intelligible  to  a  Southern  man.  From  the  same  causes  we 
may  presume,  that  it  was  often  long  before  the  improvements  in  the 
poetical  art,  which  from  time  to  time  were  made  in  the  South,  coud 
find  their  way  into  the  North ;  so  that  there  the  hobbling  alliterative 
verse  might  still  be  in  the  highest  request,  even  after  Chaucer  had 
established  the  use  of  the  heroic  metre  in  this  part  of  the  island.  Dr. 
Percy  has  quoted  an  alliterative  poem  by  a  Cheshire  man  on  the  battle 
of  Flodden  in  1513,  and  he  has  remarked  "  that  all  such  poets  as  used 
this  kind  of  metre,  retained  along  with  it  many  peculiar  Saxon  idioms." 
Essay  on  Metre  of  P.  P.  This  may  perhaps  have  been  owing  to  their 
being  generally  inhabitants  of  the  Northern  counties,  where  the  old 
Saxon  idiom  underwent  much  fewer  and  slower  alterations  than  it  did 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  capital. 

To  geite  here  is  to  relate  gestet.  In  ver.  13861  he  has  called  it  to  telle 
in  geste.  Both  passages  seem  to  imply  that  Gettet  were  chiefly  written 
in  alliterative  verse,  but  the  latter  passage  more  strongly  than  this. 
After  the  Host  has  told  Chaucer,  that  he  "  shall  no  longer  rime,"  he 
goes  on— 

■  Let  see  wher  thou  canst  tellen  ought  in  gene. 
Or  tellen  in  prose  somewhat  at  the  leste" — 

Geste  there  seems  to  be  put  for  a  species  of  composition  which  was 
neither  Rime  nor  Prose ;  and  what  that  could  be,  except  alliterative 
metre,  I  cannot  guess.  At  the  same  time  I  must  own,  that  I  kn  ow 
no  other  passage  which  authorizes  the  interpretation  of  Geste  in  this 
confined  sense. — Tyrwhitt. 


17358-17385.  THE  PERSONES  TALE.  511 

To  knitte  up  all  this  feste,  and  make  an  end© 
And  Jesu  for  his  grace  wit  me  sende 
To  shewen  you  the  way  in  this  viage 
Of  thilke  parfit  glorious  pilgrimage, 
That  hight  Jerusalem  celestial. 
And  if  ye  vouchesauf,  anon  I  shal 
Beginne  upon  my  tale,  for  which  I  pray 
Tell  your  avis,  I  can  no  better  say. 

But  natheles  this  meditation 
I  put  it  ay  under  correction 
01  clerkes,  for  I  am  not  textuel ; 
I  take  but  the  sentence,  trusteth  me  wel. 
Therfore  I  make  a  protestation, 
That  I  wol  standen  to  correction 

Upon  this  word  we  han  assented  sone: 
For,  as  us  semed,  it  was  for  to  don, 
To  enden  in  som  vertuous  sentence, 
And  for  to  yeve  him  space  and  audience ; 
And  bade  our  hoste  he  shulde  to  him  say, 
That  alle  we  to  tell  his  tale  him  pray. 

Our  hoste  had  the  wordes  for  us  alle : 
Sire  preest,  quod  he,  now  faire  you  beiulle ; 
Say  what  you  list,  and  we  shul  gladly  here. 
And  with  that  word  he  said  in  this  manere  ; 
Telleth,  quod  he,  your  meditatioun, 
But  hasteth  you,  the  sonne  wol  adoun. 
Beth  fructuous,  and  that  in  litel  space, 
And  to  do  wel  God  sende  you  his  grace. 


f  (r*  tytxmts  fait. 


Our  swete  Lord  God  of  heven,  that  no  man  wol  perish,  but 
wol  that  we  comen  all  to  the  knowleching  of  him,  and  to 
the  blisful  lif  that  is  pardurable,1  amonesteth  us  by  the 
Prophet  Jeremie,  that  sayth  in  this  wise :  Stondeth  upon 
the  wayes,  and  seeth  and  axeth  of  the  olde  pathes ;  that  is 
to  say,  of  olde  sentences ;  which  is  the  good  way :  and 
walketh  in  that  way,  and  ye  shul  finde  refreshing  for  your 
soules.    Many  ben  the  wayes  spirituel  that  leden  folk  to 

1  Lasting. 


512  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES. 

our  Lord  Jesu  Crist,  and  to  the  regne  of  glory:  of  which 
wayes,  ther  is  a  iul  noble  way,  and  wel  covenable,1  which 
may  not  faille  to  man  ne  to  woman,  that  thurgh  sinne 
hath  misgon  fro  the  right  way  of  Jerusalem  celestial ;  and 
this  way  is  cleped  penance ;  of  which  man  shuld  gladly 
herken  and  enqueren  with  all  his  herte,  to  wete,  what  is 
penance,  and  whennes  it  is  cleped  penance,  and  how  many 
maneres  ben  of  actions  or  werkings  of  penance,  and  how 
many  spices2  ther  ben  of  penance,  and  which  thinges 
apperteinen  and  behoven  to  penance,  and  which  thinges 
distroublen  penance. 

Seint  Ambrose  sayth,  That  penance  is  the  plaining3  of 
man  for  the  gilt  that  he  hath  don,  and  no  more  to  do  any 
thing  for  which  him  ought  to  plaine.  And  som  doctour 
sayth :  Penance  is  the  waymenting'  of  man  that  sorweth 
for  his  sinne,  and  peineth  himself,  for  he  hath  misdon. 
Penance,  with  certain  circumstances,  is  veray  repentance  of 
man,  that  holdeth  himself  in  sorwe  and  other  peine  for  his 
giltes :  and  for  he  shal  be  veray5  penitent,  he  shal  first 
bewailen  the  sinnes  that  he  hath  don,  and  stedfastly  pur- 
posen  in  his  herte  to  have  shrift  of  mouth,  and  to  don 
satisfaction,  and  never  to  don  thing,  for  which  him  ought 
more  to  bewayle  or  complaine,  and  to  continue  in  good 
werkes :  or  elles  his  repentance  may  not  availe.  For  as 
Seint  Isidor  sayth ;  he  is  a  japer  and  a  gabber,  and  not 
veray  repentant,  that  eftsones6  doth  thing,  for  which  him 
oweth  to  repent.  Weping,  and  not  for  to  stint  to  do 
sinne,  may  not  availe.  But  natheles,  men  shuld  hope,  that 
at  every  time  that  man  falleth,  be  it  never  so  oft,  that  he 
may  arise  thurgh  penance,  if  he  have  grace :  but  certain,  it 
is  gret  doute.  For  as  saith  Seint  Gregorie;  unnethes7 
ariseth  he  out  of  sinne,  that  is  charged  with  the  charge  of 
evil  usage.  And  therfore  repentant  folk,  that  stint  for  to 
sinne,  and  forlete8  sinne  or  that9  sinne  forlete  hem,  holy 
chirche  holdeth  hem  siker10  of  hir  salvation.  And  he  that 
sinneth,  and  veraily  repenteth  him  in  his  last  day,  holy 
chirche  yet  hopeth  his  salvation,  by  the  grete  mercy  of  our 
Lord  Jesu  Crist,  for  his  repentance :  but  take  ye  the  siker 
and  certain  way. 

And  now  sith  I  have  declared  you,  what  thing  is  penance, 

1  Suitable.  2  Species. 

3  Lamentation.  *  Lamenting.  5  Truly. 

6  Presently.  7  With  difficulty.  8  Give  over. 

•  Before  that.  »  Sure. 


THE   PEUSONES  TALE.  513 

now  ye  shul  understand,  that  ther  ben  three  actions  of 

Eenance.  The  first  is,  that  a  man  he  baptised  after  that 
e  hath  sinned.  Seint  Augustine  sayth ;  but  he  be 
penitent  for  his  old  sinful  lif,  he  may  not  beginne  the 
newe  clene  lif:  for  certes,  if  he  be  baptised  without  peni- 
tence of  his  old  gilt,  he  receiveth  the  marke  of  baptisme, 
but  not  the  grace,  ne  the  remission  of  his  shines,  til  he 
have  veray  repentance.  Another  defaute  is,  that  men  don 
dedly  sinne  after  that  they  have  received  baptisme.  The 
thridde  defaute  is,  that  men  fall  in  venial  siunes  after  hir 
baptisme,  fro  day  to  day.  Therof  sayth  Seint  Augustine, 
that  penance  of  good  and  humble  folk  is  the  penance  of 
every  day. 

The  spices  of  penance  ben  three.  That  on  of  hem  is 
solempne,  another  is  commune,  and  the  thridde  privee. 
Thilke  penance,  that  is  solempne,  is  in  two  maueres  ;  as  to 
be  put  out  of  holy  chircjie  in  lenton,1  for  slaughter  of 
children,  and  swiche  maner  thing.  Another  is  whan  a 
man  hath  sinned  openly,  of  which  sinne  the  fame  is  openly 
spoken  in  the  con  tree :  and  than  holy  chirche  by  j  ugement 
distreyneth2  him  for  to  do  open  penance.  Commun 
penance  is,  that  preestes  enjoinen  men  in  certain  cas:  as 
for  to  go  paraventure  naked  on  pilgrimage,  or  bare  foot. 
Privee  penance  is  thilke,  that  men  don  all  day  for  privee 
sinnes,  of  which  we  shrive  us  prively,  and  receive  privee 
nenance. 

Now  shalt  thou  understond  what  is  behoveful  and  ne- 
cessary to  every  parfit  penance  :  and  this  stont  on3  three 
thinges ;  contrition  of  herte,  confession  of  mouth,  and  satis- 
faction. For  which  sayth  Seint  John  Chrisostome :  penance 
distreineth  a  man  to  accept  benignely  every  peine,  that  him 
is  enjoined,  with  contrition  of  herte,  and  shrift  of  mouth, 
with  satisfaction,  and  werking  of  all  maner  humilitee. 
And  this  is  fruitful  penance  ayenst  tho  three  thinges,  in 
which  we  wrathen  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist :  this  is  to  say,  by 
delif  in  thinking,  by  rechelesnesse  in  speking,  and  by 
wicked  sinful  werking.  And  ayenst  these  wicked  giltes  is 
penance,  that  may  be  likened  unto  a  tree. 

The  rote  of  this  tree  is  contrition,  that  hideth  him  in 
the  herte  of  him  that  is  veray  repentant,  right  as  the  rote 

i  Lent.  *  Constraineth.  3  Consists  in. 

*  In  vers.  7457,  this  is  used  for  delight.  Here,  think,  it  must  mean 
"  offence,"  from  the  Latin  delictum. 


514  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

of  the  tree  hideth  him  in  the  erthe.  Of  this  rote  of  con- 
trition springeth  a  stalke,  that  bereth  branches  and  leves 
of  confession,  and  fruit  of  satisfaction.  Of  which  Crist 
sayth  in  his  gospell ;  doth  ye  digne  fruit  of  penitence  ;  for 
by  this  fruit  mow  men  understonde  and  knowe  this  tree, 
and  not  by  the  rote  that  is  hid  in  the  herte  of  man,  ne  by 
the  branches,  ne  the  leves  of  confession.  And  therfore 
our  Lord  Jesu  Crist  saith  thus ;  by  the  fruit  of  hem  shal 
ye  knowe  hem.  Of  this  rote  also  springeth  a  seed  of  grace, 
which  seed  is  moder  of  sikernesse,1  and  this  seed  is  eger 
and  hote.  The  grace  of  this  seed  springeth  of  God,  thurgh 
remembrance  on  the  day  of  dome,  and  on  the  peines  of 
helle.  Of  this  matere  saith  Salomon,  that  in  the  drede  of 
God  man  forletteth  his  sinne.  The  hete  of  this  sede  is  the 
love  of  God,  and  the  desiring  of  the  joye  perdurable.  This 
hete  draweth  the  herte  of  man  to  God,  and  doth2  him  hate 
his  sinne.  For  sothly,  ther  is  nothing  that  savoureth  so 
sote3  to  a  child,  as  the  milke  of  his  norice,  ne  nothing  is  to 
him  more  abhominable  than  that  milke,  whan  it  is  medled 
with  other  mete.  Eight  so  the  sinful  man  that  loveth  his 
sinne,  him  semeth,  that  it  is  to  him  most  swete  of  any 
thing ;  but  fro  that  time  that  he  loveth  sadly  our  Lord 
Jesu  Crist,  and  desireth  the  lif  perdurable,  ther  is  to  him 
nothing  more  abhominable.  For  sothly  the  lawe  of  God 
is  the  love  of  God.  For  which  David  the  prophet  sayth ; 
I  have  loved  thy  lawe,  and  hated  wickednesse :  he  that 
loveth  God,  kepeth  his  lawe  and  his  word.  This  tree  saw 
the  prophet  Daniel  in  spirit,  upon  the  vision  of  Nabuchc- 
donosor,  whan  he  counselled  him  to  do  penance.  Penance 
is  the  tree  of  lif,  to  hem  that  it  receiven :  and  he  that 
holdeth  him  in  veray  penance,  is  blisful,  after  the  sentence 
of  Salomon. 

In  this  penance  or  contrition  man  shal  understond  foure 
thinges ;  that  is  to  say,  what  is  contrition ;  and  which  ben 
the  causes  that  moven  a  man  to  contrition ;  and  how  he 
shuld  be  contrite;  and  what  contrition  availeth  to  the 
soule.  Than  is  it  thus,  that  contrition  is  the  veray  sorwe 
that  a  man  receiveth  in  his  herte  for  his  shines,  with  sad 
purpos  to  shriven  him,  and  to  do  penance,  and  never  more 
to  don  sinne.  And  this  sorwe  shal  be  in  this  maner,  as 
sayth  Seint  Bernard ;  it  shal  ben  hevy  and  grevous,  and 
ful  sharpe  and  poinant  in  herte ;  first,  for  a  man  hath  agilted4 

1  Safety,  salvation.  s  Maketh. 

*  Sweet.  *  Sinned  against. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  515 

his  Lord  and  his  creatour;  and  more  sharpe  and  poinant, 
for  he  hath  agilted  his  father  celestial ;  and  yet  more  sharpe 
and  poinant,  for  he  hath  wrathed  and  agilted  him  that 
bough te  him,  that  with  his  precious  blod  hath  delivered  us 
fro  the  bondes  of  sinne,  and  fro  the  crueltee  of  the  devil, 
and  fro  the  peiues  of  helle. 

The  causes  that  ought  to  meve  a  man  to  contrition  ben 
sixe.  First,  a  man  shal  remembre  him  of  his  sinnes.  But 
loke  that  that  remembrance  ne  be  to  him  no  delit,1  by  no 
way,  but  grete  shame  and  sorwe  for  his  sinnes.  For  Job 
sayth,  sinful  men  don  werkes  worthy  of  confession.  And 
therfore  sayth  Ezechiel ;  I  wol  remembre  me  all  the  yeres 
of  my  lif,in  the  bitternesse  of  my  herte.  And  God  sayth  in 
the  Apocalipse ;  remembre  you  fro  whens  that  ye  ben  fall, 
for  before  the  time  that  ye  sinned,  ye  weren  children  of 
God,  and  limmes  of  the  regne  of  God ;  but  for  your  sinne 
ye  ben  waxen  thral  and  foule ;  membres  of  the  fende ;  hate 
of  angels ;  sclaunder  of  holy  chirche,  and  fode  of  the  false 
serpent ;  perpetuel  matere  of  the  fire  of  helle ;  and  yet  more 
foule  and  abhominable,  for  ye  trespassen  so  oft  times, 
as  doth  the  hound  that  torneth  again  to  ete  his  owen 
spewing ;  and  yet  fouler,  for  your  long  continuing  in  sinne, 
and  your  sinful  usage,  for  which  ye  be  roten  in  your  sinnes, 
as  a  beest  in  his  donge.  Swiche  manere  thoughtes  make  a 
man  to  have  shame  of  his  sinne,  and  no  delit ;  as  God  saith, 
by  the  Prophet  Ezechiel ;  ye  shul  remembre  you  of  your 
wayes,  and  they  shul  displese  you.  Sothly,  sinnes  ben  the 
waies  that  lede  folk  to  hell. 

The  second  cause  that  ought  to  make  a  man  to  have  dis- 
deigne  of  sinne  is  this,  that,  as  saith  Seint  Peter,  who  so 
doth  sinne,  is  thral  to  sinne,  and  sinne  putteth  a  man  in 

f*et  thraldom.  And  therfore  sayth  the  Prophet  Ezechiel ; 
went  sorweful,  and  had  disdeigue  of  myself.  Certes,  wel 
ought  a  man  have  disdeigne  of  sinne,  and  withdrawe  him 
fro  that  thraldom  and  vilany.  And  lo,  what  sayth  Seneke 
in  this  mater.  He  saith  thus ;  though  I  wi^t,  that  neither 
God  ne  man  shuld  never  know  it,  yet  wold  I  have  dis- 
deigne for  to  do  sinne.  And  the  same  Seneke  also  sayth  : 
I  am  borne  to  greter  thinges,  than  to  be  thral  to  my  body, 
or  for  to  make  of  my  body  a  thral.  Ne  a  fouler  thral  may 
no  man,  ne  woman,  make  of  his  body,  than  for  to  yeve 
his  body  to  sinne.    Al2  were  it  the  foulest  chorle,  or  the 

*  Delight.  s  Albeit. 


516  THE  CANTEBBUKY   TALES. 

foulest  woman  that  liveth,  and  lest  of  value,  yet  is  he 
than  more  foule,  and  more  in  servitude.  Ever  fro  the 
higher  degree  that  man  falleth,  the  more  is  he  thral,  and 
more  to  God  and  to  the  world  vile  and  abhominable.  O 
good  God,  wel  ought  a  man  have  disdeigne  of  sinne,  sith 
that  thurgh  sinne,  ther  he  was  free,  he  is  made  bond.  And 
therfore  sayth  Seiut  Augustine:  if  thou  hast  disdeigne  of 
thy  servant,  if  he  offend  or  sinne,  have  thou  than  disdeigne, 
that  thou  thy  self  shuldest  do  sinne.  Take  reward  of  thin 
owen  value,  that  thou  ne  be  to  foule  to  thyself.  Alas  !  wel 
oughten  they  than  have  disdeigne  to  be  servants  and  thralles 
to  sinne,  and  sore  to  be  ashamed  of  hemself,  that  God  of 
his  endles  goodnesse  hath  sette  in  high  estat,  or  yeve  hem 
witte,  strength  of  body,  hele,1  beautee,  or  prosperitee,  and 
bought  hem  fro  the  deth  with  his  herte  blood,  that  they 
so  unkindly  agains  his  gentillesse,  quiten  him  so  viiamsly, 
to  slaughter  of  hir  owen  soules.  O  good  God  !  ye  women 
that  ben  of  gret  beautee,  remembreth  you  on  the  proverbe 
of  Salomon,  that  likeneth  a  faire  woman,  that  is  a  fool  of 
hire  body,  to  a  ring  of  gold  that  is  worne  in  the  groine2  of 
a  so  we:  for  right  as  a  sowe  wroteth3  in  every  ordure,  so 
wroteth  she  hire  beautee  in  stinking  ordure  of  sinne. 

The  thridde  cause,  that  ought  to  meve  a  man  to  con- 
trition, is  drede  of  the  day  of  dome,  and  of  the  horrible 
peines  of  helle.  For  as  Seint  Jerome  sayth :  at  every  time 
that  me  remembreth  of  the  day  of  dome,  T.  quake :  for  whan 
I  ete  or  drinke,  or  do  what  so4  I  do.  ever  semeth  me  that 
the  trompe  sowneth  in  min  eres :  riseth  ye  up  that  ben  ded, 
and  cometh  to  the  jugement.  O  good  God  !  moche  ought 
a  man  to  drede  swiche  a  jugement,  ther  as  we  shul  be  alle, 
as  Seint  Poule  sayth,  before  the  streit  jugement  of  oure 
Lord  Jesu  Crist ;  wheras  he  shal  make  a  general  congre- 
gation, whei'as  no  man  may  be  absent;  for  certes  ther 
availeth  uod  essoine5  ne  non  excusation ;  and  not  only,  that 
our  defautes  shul  be  juged,  but  eke  that  all  our  werkes 
shul  openly  be  knowen.  And,  as  sayth  Seint  Bernard,  ther 
ne  shal  no  pleting6  availe,  ne  no  sleight:7  we  shal  yeve 
rekening  of  everich  idle  word.  Ther  shal  we  have  a.juge 
that  may  not  be  deceived  ne  corrupt ;  and  why?  for  certes, 
all  our  though tes  ben  discovered,  as  to  him :  ne  for  prayer, 
ne  for  mede,  he  wil  not  be  corrupt.     And  therfore  saith 

i  Health.  *  Snout.  »  Walloweth. 

4  Whatever.  *  A  legal  excuse  for  non-attendance. 

«  Pleading.  7  Skill,  contrivance. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  517 

Salomon :  the  wrath  of  God  ne  wol  not  spare  no  wight,  for 
prayer  ne  for  yeft.1  And  therfore  at  the  day  of  dome  ther 
is  non  hoj:>e  to  escape.  Wherfore,  as  sayth  Seint  Anselme, 
ful  gret  anguish  shal  the  sinful  folk  have  at  that  time ;  ther 
shal  be  the  sterne  and  wroth  juge  sitting  above,  and  under 
him  the  horrible  pitte  of  helle  open,  to  destroy  him  that 
wolde  not  beknowen2  his  sinnes,  which  sinnes  shullen  openly 
be  shewed  before  God  and  before  every  creatine:  and  on 
the  left  side,  mo  Divels  than  any  herte  may  thinke,  for  to 
harie3  and  drawe  the  sinful  soules  to  the  pitte  of  helle :  and 
within  the  hertes  of  folk  shal  be  the  biting  conscience,  and 
without  forth  shal  be  the  world  all  brenning.  "Whither 
than  shal  the  wretched  soule  flee  to  hide  him  1  Certes  he 
may  not  hide  him,  he  must  come  forth  and  shewe  him. 
For  certes,  as  saith  Seint  Jerome,  the  erth  shal  cast  him 
out  of  it,  and  the  see,  and  also  the  aire,  that  shal  be  ful  of 
thonder  clappes  and  lightnings.  Now  sothly,  who  so  wil 
remembre  him  of  these  thinges,  I  gesse  that  his  sinnes  shal 
not  torne  him  to  delit,  but  to  grete  sorwe,  for  drede  of  the 
peine  of  helle.  And  therfore  saith  Job  to  God:  suffer, 
Lord,  that  I  may  a  while  bewaile  and  bewepe,  or4  I  go 
without  retorning  to  the  derke  londe,  ycovered  with  the 
derkenesse  of  deth  ;  to  the  londe  of  misese  and  of  derke- 
nesse,  wheras5  is  the  shadowe  of  deth :  wheras  is  non  ordre 
ne  ordinance,  but  grisly  drede  that  ever  shal  last.  Lo,  here 
may  ye  see,  that  Job  prayed  respite  a  while,  to  bewepe  and 
waile  his  trespas:  for  sothely  on  day  of  respite  is  better 
than  all  the  tresour  of  this  world.  And  for  as  moche  as  a 
man  may  acquite  himself  before  God  by  penitence  in  this 
world,  and  not  by  tresour,  therfore  shuld  he  pray  to  God 
to  yeve  him  respite  a  while,  to  bewepen  and  bewailen  his 
trespas :  for  certes,  all  the  sorwe  that  a  man  might  make 
fro  the  beginning  of  the  world,  n'is  but  a  litel  thing,  at 
regard  of  the  sorwe  of  helle.  The  cause  why  that  Job 
clepeth  helle  the  londe  of  derkenesse ;  understondeth,6  that 
he  clepeth  it  londe  or  erth,  for  it  is  stable  and  never  shal 
faile ;  and  derke,  for  he  that  is  in  helle  hath  defaute  of  light 
naturel ;  for  certes  the  derke  light,  that  shal  come  out  of 
the  fire  that  ever  shal  brenne,  shal  torne  hem  all  to  peine 
that  be  in  helle,  for  it  sheweth  hem  the  horrible  Divels 
that  hem  turmenten.  Covered  with  the  derkenesse  of 
deth ;  that  is  to  say,  that  he  that  is  in  helle,  shal  have  de- 

1  Gift.  s  Acknowledge. 

3  Hurry,  4  Before.  *  Where. 

8  Meanet/t,  or  perhaps  it  is  the  second  person  pi.  "  understand  ye." 
44 


518  THE  CANTEKBURY   TALES. 

faute  of  the  sight  of  God ;  for  certes  the  sight  of  God  is  the 
lif  perdurable.  The  derknesse  of  deth,  ben  the  sinnes  that 
the  wretched  man  hath  don,  which  that  distroublen  him  to 
see  the  face  of  God,  right  as  a  derke  cloud  betwene  us  and 
the  sonne.  It  is  londe  of  inisese,1  because  that  ther  ben 
three  maner  of  defautes  ayenst  three  thinges  that  folk  of 
this  world  han  in  this  present  lif;  that  is  to  say,  honoures, 
delites,  and  richesses.  Ayenst  honour  have  they  in  helle 
shame  and  confusion :  for  wel  ye  wote,  that  men  clepen 
honour  the  reverence  that  man  doth  to  man ;  but  in  helle 
is  non  honour  ne  reverence ;  for  certes  no  more  reverence 
shal  be  don  -ther  to  a  king,  than  to  a  knave.  For  which 
God  sayth  by  the  Prophet  Jeremie ;  the  folk,  that  me 
despisen,  shal  be  in  despite.  Honour  is  also  cleped  gret 
lordeship.  Ther  shal  no  wight  serven  other,  but  of 
harme  and  turment.  Honour  is  also  cleped  gret  dig- 
nitee  and  highnesse;  but  in  helle  shal  they  be  alle  for- 
troden  of  divels.  As  God  saith ;  the  horrible  Divels  shul 
gon  and  comen  upon  the  hedes  of  dampned  folk :  and  this 
is,  for  as  moche  as  the  higher  that  they  were  in  this  pre- 
sent lif,  the  more  shul  they  be  abated  and  defouled  in  helle. 
Ayenst  the  richesse  of  this  world  shul  they  have  misese 
of  poverte,  and  this  poverte  shal  be  in  foure  thinges :  in 
defaute  of  tresour ;  of  which  David  sayth ;  the  riche  folk 
that  enbraceden  and  oneden2  all  hir  herte  to  tresour  of  this 
world,  shul  slepe  in  the  sleping  of  deth,  and  nothing  ne 
shul  they  find  in  hir  hondes  of  all  hir  tresour.  And  more- 
over, the  misese  of  helle  shal  be  in  defaute  of  mete  and 
drink.  For  God  sayth  thus  by  Moyses:  they  shul  be 
wasted  with  honger,  and  the  briddes3  of  helle  shul  clevoure 
hem  with  bitter  deth,  and  the  gall  of  the  dragon  shal  ben 
hir  drinke,  and  the  venime  of  the  dragon  hir  morsels.  And 
further  over  hir  misese  shal  be  in  defaute  of  clothing,  for 
they  shul  be  naked  in  body,  as  of  clothing,  save  the  fire  in 
which  they  brenne,  and  other  filthes ;  and  naked  shul  they 
be  in  soule,  of  all  maner  vertues,  which  that  is  the  clothing 
of  the  soule.  Wher  ben  than  the  gay  robes,  and  softe 
shetes,  and  the  fyn  shertes  ?  Lo,  what  sayth  God  of  heven 
by  the  Prophet  Esaie,  that  under  hem  shul  be  strewed 
mothes,  and  hir  covertures  shul  ben  of  wormes  of  helle. 
And  further  over  hir  misese  shal  be  in  defaute  of  frendes, 
for  he  is  not  poure  that  hath  good  frendes :  but  ther  is  no 
frend;  for  neither  God  ne  no  good  creature  shal  be  frend 

1  Uneasiness.  8  United.  3  Birds. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  519 

to  hem,  and  everich  of  hem  shal  hate  other  with  dedly 
hate.  The  sonnes  and  the  doughters  shal  rebel  ayenst 
father  and  mother,  and  kinred  ayenst  kinred,  and  chiden, 
and  despisen  eche  other,  both  day  and  night,  as  God  sayth 
by  the  Prophet  Micheas.  And  the  loving  children,  that 
whilom  loveden  so  fleshly,  everich  of  hem  wold  eten  other 
if  they  might.  For  how  shuld  they  love  togeder  in  the 
peines  of  helle,  whan  they  hated  eche  other  in  the  pros- 
peritee  of  this  lif  ?  For  truste  wcl,  hir  fleshly  love  was 
dedly  hate.  As  saith  the  Prophet  David:  who  so  that 
loveth  wickednesse,  he  hateth  his  owen  soule,  and  who  so 
hateth  his  owen  soule,  certes  he  may  love  non  other  wight 
in  no  manere:  and  therfore  in  helle  is  no  solace  ne  no 
frendship,  but  ever  the  more  kinredes  that  ben  in  helle, 
the  more  cursing,  the  more  chiding,  and  the  more  dedly 
hate  ther  is  among  hem.  And  further  over  ther  they  shul 
have  defaute  of  all  maner  delites,  for  certes  delites  ben 
after  the  appetites  of  the  five  wittes;  as  sight,  hering, 
smelling,  savouring,  and  touching.  But  in  helle  hir  sight 
shal  be  ful  of  derkenesse  and  of  smoke,  and  hir  eyen  ful  of 
teres;  and  hir  hering  ful  of  waimenting  and  grinting  of 
teeth,  as  sayth  Jesu  Crist:  hir  nosethirles  shul  be  ful  of 
stinking;  and,  as  saith  Esay  the  Prophet,  hir  savouring 
shal  be  ful  of  bitter  galle ;  and  touching  of  all  hir  body, 
shal  be  covered  with  fire  that  never  shal  quenche,  and  with 
wormes  that  never  shal  die,  as  God  sayth  by  the  mouth  of 
Esay.  And  for  as  moche  as  they  shul  not  wene  that  they 
mow  dien  for  peine,  and  by  deth  flee  fro  peine,  that  mow 
they  understonde  in  the  word  of  Job,  that  sayth ;  Ther  is 
the  shadow  of  deth.  Certes  a  shadowe  hath  likenesse  of 
the  thing  of  which  it  is  shadowed,  but  shadowe  is  not  the 
same  thing  of  which  it  is  shadowed :  right  so  fareth  the 
peine  of  helle ;  it  is  like  deth,  for  the  horrible  anguish ;  and 
why  ?  for  it  peineth  hem  ever  as  though  they  shuld  die 
anon ;  but  certes  they  shul  not  dien.  For  as  saith  Seint 
Gregory ;  To  wretched  caitifes  shal  be  deth  withouten  deth, 
and  ende  withouten  ende,  and  defaute  withouten  failing ; 
for  hir  deth  shal  alway  live,  and  hir  ende  shal  ever  more 
beginne,  and  hir  defaute  shal  never  faile.  And  therfore 
sayth  Seint  John  the  Evangelist;  They  shul  folow  deth, 
and  they  shul  not  finde  him,  and  they  shul  desire  to  die,  and 
deth  shal  flee  from  hem.  And  eke  Job  saith,  that  in  helle 
is  non  ordre  of  rule.  And  al  be  it  so,  that  God  hath  create 
all  thing  in  right  ordre,  and  nothing  withouten  ordre,  but 


520  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

all  thinges  ben  ordred  and  numbred,  yet  natheles  they  that 
ben  da  pned  ben  nothing  in  ordre,  ne  hold  non  ordre. 
For  the  erth  shal  here  hem  no  fruite ;  (for,  as  the  Prophet 
David  sayeth,  God  shal  destroy  the  fruite  of  the  erth,  as 
fro  hem)  ne  water  shal  yeve  hem  no  moisture,  ne  the  aire 
no  refreshing,  ne  the  fire  no  light.  For  as  sayth  Seint 
Basil ;  The  brenning  of  the  fire  of  this  world  shal  God  yeve 
in  helle  to  hem  that  ben  dampned,  but  the  light  and  the 
clerenesse  shal  be  yeve  in  heven  to  his  children ;  right  as 
the  good  man  yeveth  flesh  to  his  children,  and  bones  to  his 
houndes.  And  for  they  shul  have  non  hope  to  escape, 
sayth  Job  at  last,  that  ther  shal  horrour  and  grisly  drede 
dwellen  withouten  ende.  Horrour  is  alway  drede  of  harme 
that  is  to  come,  and  this  drede  shal  alway  dwell  in  the 
hertes  of  hem  that  ben  dampned.  And  therfore  han  they 
lorne1  all  hir  hope  for  seven  causes.  First,  for  God  that 
is  hir  juge  shal  be  withouten  mercie  to  hem;  and  they 
may  not  plese  liim ;  ne  non  of  his  halwes ;  ne  they  may 
yeve  nothing  for  hir  raunsom ;  ne  they  have  no  vois  to 
speke  to  him ;  ne  they  may  not  flee  fro  peine ;  ne  they  have 
no  goodnesse  in  hem  that  they  may  shew  to  deliver  hem 
fro  peine.  And  therfore  sayth  Salomon ;  The  wicked  man 
dieth,  and  whan  he  is  ded,  he  shal  have  non  hope  to  escape 
fro  peine.  Who  so  than  wold  wel  understonde  these  peines, 
and  bethinke  him  wel  that  he  hath  deserved  these  peines 
for  his  sinnes,  certes  he  shulde  have  more  talent  to  sighen 
and  to  wepe,  than  for  to  singe  and  playe.  For  as  sayth 
Salomon ;  Who  so  that  had  the  science  to  know  the  peines 
that  ben  established  and  ordeined  for  sinne,  he  wold  forsake 
sinne.  That  science,  saith  Seint  Austin,  maketh  a  man  to 
waimenten2  in  his  herte. 

The  fourthe  point,  that  oughte  make  a  man  have  contri- 
tion, is  the  sorweful  remembrance  of  the  good  dedes  that 
he  hath  lefte3  to  don  here  in  erthe,  and  also  the  good  that 
he  hath  lorne.  Sothly  the  good  werkes  that  ne  hath  lefte, 
either  they  be  the  good  werkes  that  he  wrought  er  he  fell 
into  dedly  sinne,  or  elles  the  good  werkes  that  he  wrought 
while  he  lay  in  sinne.  Sothly  the  good  werkes  that  he  did 
before  that  he  fell  in  dedly  sinne,  ben  all  mortified,  astoned,4 
and  dulled  by  the  eft  sinning :  the  other  werkes  that  he 
wrought  while  he  lay  in  sinne,  they  ben  utterly  ded,  as  to 
the  lit'  perdurable  in  heven.   Than  thilke  good  werkes  that 

1  Lost.  2  Lament. 

*  Omitted.  *  Confounded. 


THE   PERSONES   TALE.  521 

ben  mortified  by  eft  sinning,  which  he  did  while  he  was  in 
ch&ritee,  moan  never  quicken  ayen  without  veray1  peni- 
tence .And  therof sayth  God  by  the  mouth  of  Ezechiel ; 
if  the  rightful  man  retorne  again  fro  his  rightwisnes.se  and 
do  wickednesse,  shal  he  liven  1  nay;  for  all  the  good 
werkes  that  he  hath  wrought,  shul  never  be  in  remem- 
brance, for  he  shal  die  in  his  sinne.  And  upon  thilke 
chapitre  sayth  Seint  Gregorie  thus  ;  that  we  shal  under- 
stonde  this  principally,  that  when  we  don  dedly  sinne,  it  is 
for  nought  than  to  remembre  or  drawe  into  memorie  the 
good  werkes  that  we  have  wrought  beforn  :  for  certes  in 
the  werking  of  dedly  sinne,  ther  is  no  trust  in  no  good 
werk  that  we  have  don  beforn ;  that  is  to  say,  as  for  to 
have  therby  the  lif  perdurable  in  heven.  But  natheles,  the 
good  werkes  quicken  again  and  comen  again,  and  helpe  and 
availe  to  have  the  lif  perdurable  in  heven,  whan  we  have 
contrition :  but  sothly  the  good  werkes  that  men  don  while 
they  ben  in  dedly  sinne,  for  as  moche  as  they  were  don  in 
dedly  sinne,  they  may  never  quicken  :  for  certes,  thing  that 
never  had  lif,  may  never  quicken :  and  natheles,  al  be  it  so 
that  they  availen  not  to  have  the  lif  perdurable,  yet  availen 
they  to  abreggen-  the  peine  of  helle,  or  elies  to  get  tem- 
poral richesses,  or  elles  that  God  wol  the  rather  enlumine 
or  light  the  herte  of  the  sinful  man  to  have  repentance  ; 
and  eke  they  availen  for  to  usen  a  man  to  do  good  werkes, 
that  the  fende  have  the  lesse  power  of  his  soule.  And  thus 
the  curteis  Lord  Jesu  Crist  ne  woll  that  no  good  werk  that 
men  don  be  loste,  for  in  somwhat  it  shal  availe.  But  for 
as  moche  as  the  good  werkes  that  men  don  whde  they  ben 
in  good  lif,  ben  all  amortised3  by  sinne  folowing,  and  eke 
sith  all  the  good  werkes  that  men  don  while  they  ben  in 
dedly  sinne,  ben  utterly  ded,  as  for  to  have  the  lif  perdu- 
rable, wel  may  that  man,  that  no  good  werk  ne  doth,  sing 
thilke  newe  Frenshe  song,  «/'ay  tout  perdu  mon  temps,  et 
mon  labour.  For  certes  sinne  bereveth  a  man  both  good- 
nesse  of  nature  ,and  eke  the  goodnesse  of  grace.  For  sothly 
the  grace  of  the  holy  gost  fareth  like  fire  that  may  not  ben 
idle ;  for  fire  faileth  anon  as  it  forletteth  his  werking,  and 
right  so  grace  faileth  anon  as  it  forletteth  his  werking. 
Than  leseth  the  sinful  man  the  goodnesse  of  glorie,  that 
only  is  hight  to  good  men  that  labouren  and  werken  wel. 
"Wel  may  he  be  sory  than,  that  oweth  all  his  lif  to  God,  as 

1  True.  *  Shorten.  '  Deadened. 

44* 


522  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES. 

long  as  he  hath  lived,  and  also  as  long  as  he  shal  live,  that 
no  goodnesse  ne  hath  to  paie  with  his  dette  to  God,  to 
whom  he  oweth  all  his  lif:  for  trust  wel  he  shal  yeve 
accomptes,  as  sayth  Seint  Bernard,  of  all  the  goodes  that 
han  ben  yeven  him  in  this  present  lif,  and  how  he  hath 
hem  dispended,  in  so  moche  that  ther  shal  not  perishe  an 
here  of  his  hed,  ne  a  moment  of  an  houre  ne  shal  not 
perishe  of  his  time,  that  he  ne  shal  yeve  therof  a  rekening. 
The  fifthe  thing,  that  ought  to  meve  a  man  to  contrition, 
is  remembrance  of  the  passion  that  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist 
suffered  for  our  sinnes.  For  as  sayth  Seint  Bernard, 
While  that  I  live,  I  shal  have  remembrance  of  the  travailes 
that  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist  suffered  in  preching,  his  weri- 
nesse  in  traveling,  his  temptations  whan  he  fasted,  his  long 
wakinges  whan  he  prayed,  his  teres  whan  he  wept  for 
pitee  of  good  peple :  the  wo  and  the  shame,  and  the  filthe 
that  men  sayden  to  him :  of  the  foule  spitting  that  men 
spitten  in  his  face,  of  the  buffettes  that  men  yave  him :  of 
the  foule  mouthes1  and  of  the  foule  repreves  that  men 
saiden  to  him  :  of  the  nayles  with  which  he  was  nailed  to 
the  crosse ;  and  of  all  the  remenant2  of  his  passion,  that  he 
suffred  for  mannes  sinne,  and  nothing  for  his  gilte.  And 
here  ye  shul  understand  that  in  mannes  sinne  is  every 
maner  order,  or  ordinance,  tourned  up  so3  doun.  For  it  is 
soth,  that  God  and  reson,  and  sensualitee,  and  the  body  of 
man,  ben  ordained,  that  everich  of  thise  foure  thinges 
shuld  have  lordship  over  that  other :  as  thus ;  God  shuld 
have  lordship  over  reson,  and  reson  over  sensualitee,  and 
sensualitee  over  the  body  of  man.  But  sothly  whan  man 
sinneth,  all  this  ordre,  or  ordinance,  is  turned  up  so  doun ; 
and  therfore  than,  for  as  moche  as  reson  of  man  ne  wol  not 
be  subget  ne  obeisant  to  God,  that  is  his  lord  by  right, 
therfore  leseth  it  the  lordship  that  it  shuld  have  over 
sensualitee,  and  eke  over  the  body  of  man :  and  why  1  for 
sensualitee  rebelleth  than  ayenst  reson :  and  by  that  way 
leseth  reson  the  lordship  over  sensualitee,  and  over  the 
body.  For  right  as  reson  is  rebel  to  God,  right  so  is 
sensualitee  rebel  to  reson,  and  the  body  also.  And  certes 
this  disordinance,  and  this  rebellion,  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist 
abought  upon  his  precious  body  ful  dere :  and  herkeneth 
in  whiche  wise.  For  as  moche  as  reson  is  rebel  to  God, 
therfore  is  man  worthy  to  have  sorwe,  and  to  be  ded.  This 

1  Supply,  "  that  men  made  at  him." 

8  Remainder.  3  Upside  down. 


THE   PEKSONES  TALE.  523 

suffred  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist  for  man,  after  that  he  had  be 
betraied  of  his  disciple,  and  distreined  and  bounde,  so  that 
his  blood  brast  out  at  every  nail  of  his  hondes,  as  saith 
Seint  Augustin.  And  ferthermore,  for  as  moche  as  reson 
of  man  wol  not  daunt  sensualitee  whan  it  may,  therfore  is 
man  worthy  to  have  shame :  and  this  suffered  our  Lord 
Jesu  Crist  for  man,  whan  they  spitten  in  his  visage.  And 
fertherover,1  for  as  moche  as  the  caitif  body  of  man  is  rebel 
both  to  reson  and  to  sensualitee,  therfore  it  is  worthy  the 
deth:  and  this  suffered  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist  upon  the 
crosse,  wheras  ther  was  no  part  of  his  body  free,  without 
grete  peine  and  bitter  passion.  And  all  this  suffred  our 
Lord  Jesu  Crist  that  never  forfaited;  and  thus  saydhe: 
To  mochel  am  I  peined,  for  thinges  that  I  never  deserved: 
and  to  moche  defouled  for  shendship2  that  man  is  worthy 
to  have.  And  therfore  may  the  sinful  man  wel  say,  as 
say  th  Seint  Bernard :  Accursed  be  the  bitternesse  of  my 
sinne,  for  whiche  ther  must  be  suffered  so  moche  bitter- 
nesse. For  certes,  after  the  divers  discordance  of  our 
wickednesse  was  the  passion  of  Jesu  Crist  ordeined  in 
divers  thinges ;  as  thus.  Certes  sinful  mannes  soule  is 
betraied  of  the  divel,  by  coveitise  of  temporel  prosperitee ; 
and  scorned  by  disceite,  whan  he  cheseth  fleshly  delites ; 
and  yet  it  is  turmented  by  impatience  of  adversitee,  and 
bespet  by  servage  and  subjection  of  sinne ;  and  at  the  last 
it  is  slain  finally.  For  this  discordance  of  sinful  man,  was 
Jesu  Crist  first  betraied ;  and  after  that  was  he  bounde, 
that  came  for  to  unbinde  us  of  sinne  and  of  peine.  Than 
was  he  bescorned,  that  only  shuld  have  ben  honoured  in 
alle  thinges  and  of  alle  thinges.  Than  was  his  visage,  that 
ought  to  be  desired  to  be  seen  of  all  mankind  (in  which 
visage  angels  desiren  to  loke)  vilainsly  bespet.  Than  was 
he  scourged  that  nothing  had  trespassed ;  and  finally,  than 
was  he  crucified  and  slain.  Than  were  accomplished  the 
wordes  of  Esaie :  He  was  wounded  for  our  misdedes,  and 
defouled  for  our  felonies.  Now  sith  that  Jesu  Crist  toke 
on  himself  the  peine  of  all  our  wickednesses,  moche  ought 
sinful  man  to  wepe  and  to  bewaile,  that  for  his  sinnes 
Goddes  sone  of  heven  shuld  all  this  peine  endure. 

The  sixte  thing,  that  shuld  move  a  man  to  contrition,  is 
the  hope  of  three  thinges,  that  is  to  say,  foryevenesse  of 
sinne,  and  the  yeft  of  grace  for  to  do  wel,  and  the  glorie  of 

1  Moreover.  *  Destruction. 


524  THE   CANTERBURY  TALE3. 

heven,  with  whiche  God  shal  guerdon  man  for  his  good 
dedes.  And  for  as  moche  as  Jesu  Crist  yeveth  us  thise 
yeftes  of  his  largenesse,  and  of  his  soveraine  bountee.  ther- 
fbre  is  he  cleped,  Jesus  Nazarenus  Rex  Judceorum.  Jesus 
is  for  to  say,  saviour  or  salvation,  on  whom  men  shul  hopen 
to  have  foryevenesse  of  sinnes,  which  that  is  proprely 
salvation  of  sinnes.  And  therfore  sayd  the  Angel  to 
Joseph,  Thou  shalt  clepe  his  name  Jesus,  that  shal  saven 
his  peple  of  hir  sinnes.  And  hereof  saith  Seint  Peter ; 
Ther  is  non  other  name  under  heven,  that  is  yeven  to  any 
man,  by  which  a  man  may  be  saved,  but  only  Jesus. 
Nazarenus  is  as  moche  for  to  say,  as  flourishing,  in  which 
a  man  shal  hope,  that  he,  that  yeveth  him  remission  of 
sinnes,  shal  yeve  him  also  grace  wel  for  to  do :  for  in  the 
flour  is  hope  of  fruit  in  time  coming,  and  in  foryevenesse 
of  sinnes  hope  of  grace  wel  to  do.  I  was  at  the  dore  of 
thin  herte,  sayth  Jesus,  and  cleped  for  to  enter.  He  that 
openeth  to  me,  shal  have  foryevenesse  of  his  sinnes,  and  I 
wol  enter  into  him  by  my  grace,  and  soupe  with  him  by 
the  good  werkes  that  he  shal  don,  which  werkes  ben  the 
food  of  God,  and  he  shal  soupe  with  me  by  the  gret  joye 
that  I  shal  yeve  him.  Thus  shal  man  hope,  that  for  his 
werkes  of  penance  God  shal  yeve  him  his  regne,  as  he 
behight1  him  in  the  Gospel. 

Now  shal  man  understande,  in  which  maner  shal  be  his 
contrition.  I  say,  that  it  shal  be  universal  and  total ;  this 
is  to  say,  a  man  shal  be  veray  repentant  for  all  his  sinnes, 
that  he  hath  don  in  delite  of  his  thought,  for  delite  is 
perilous.  For  ther  ben  two  maner  of  consentinges ;  that 
on  of  hem  is  cleped  consenting  of  affection,  whan  a  man  is 
meved  to  do  sinne,  and  than  deliteth  him  longe  for  to 
thinke  on  that  sinne,  and  his  reson  apperceiveth  it  wel,  that 
it  is  sinne  ayenst  the  lawe  of  God,  and  yet  his  reson 
refraineth  not  his  foule  delite  or  talent,  though  he  see  wel 
apertly,2  that  it  is  ayenst  the  reverence  of  God ;  although 
his  reson  consent  not  to  do  that  sinne  indede,  yet  sayn  som 
doctours,  that  swiche  delite  that  dwelleth  longe  is  ful 
perilous,  al  be  it  never  so  lite.  And  also  a  man  shuld 
sorow,  namely  for  all  that  ever  he  hath  desired  ayenst  the 
lawe  of  God,  with  parfite  consenting  of  his  reson,  for 
therof  is  no  doute,  that  it  is  dedly  sinne  in  consenting:  for 
certes  ther  is  no  dedly  sinne,  but  that  it  is  first  in  mannes 

i  Promised  8  Openly. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  525 

thought,  and  after  that  in  his  delite,  and  so  forth  into 
consenting,  and  into  dede.  Wherfore  I  say,  that  many 
men  ne  repent  hem  never  of  swiche  thoughtes  and  delites, 
ne  never  shriven  hem  of  it,  but  only  of  the  dede  of  gret 
sinnes  outward  :  wherfore  I  say,  that  swiche  wicked  delites 
ben  subtil  begilers  of  hem  that  shul  be  dampned.  More- 
over man  ought  to  sorwen  for  his  wicked  wordes,  as  wel  as 
for  his  wicked  dedes :  for  certes  repentance  of  a  singuler 
sinne,  and  not  repentant  of  all  his  other  sinnes ;  or  elles 
repenting  him  of  all  his  other  sinnes,  and  not  of  a  singuler 
sinne,  may  not  availe.  For  certes  God  Almighty  is  all 
good  ;  and  therfore,  either  he  foryeveth  all,  or  elles  right 
nought.  And  therfore  sayth  Seint  Augustin:  I  wote 
certainly,  that  God  is  enemy  to  every  sinner :  and  how 
than  1  he  that  observeth  on  sinne,  shal  he  have  foryeve- 
nesse  of  the  remenant  of  his  other  sinnes  ?  Nay.  And 
furtherover  contrition  shuld  be  wonder  sorweful  and 
anguishous:  and  therfore  yeveth  him  God  plainly  his 
mercie :  and  therfore  whan  my  soule  was  anguishous,  and 
sorweful  within  me,  than  had  I  remembrance  of  God,  that 
my  praier  might  come  to  him.  Furtherover  contrition 
muste  be  continuel,  and  that  man  have  stedfast  purpose 
to  shrive  him,  and  to  amend  him  of  his  lif.  For  sothly, 
while  contrition  lasteth,  man  may  ever  hope  to  have 
foryevenesse.  And  of  this  cometh  hate  of  sinne,  that  de- 
stroyeth  sinne  bothe  in  himself,  and  eke  in  other  folk  at 
his  power.  For  which  sayth  David ;  they  that  love  God, 
hate  wickednesse  :  for  to  love  God,  is  for  to  love  that  he 
loveth,  and  hate  that  he  hateth. 

The  last  thing  that  men  shull  understand  in  contrition 
is  this,  wherof  availeth  contrition.  I  say,  that  contrition 
somtime  delivereth  man  fro  sinne :  of  which  David  saith; 
I  say,  (quod  David)  I  purposed  fermely  to  shrive  me,  and 
thou  Lord  relesedest  my  sinne.  And  right  so  as  contrition 
availeth  not  without  sad  purpos  of  shrift  and  satisfaction, 
right  so  litel  worth  is  shrift  or  satisfaction  withouten  con- 
trition. And  moreover  contrition  destroyeth  the  prison  of 
helle,  and  maketh  weke  and  feble  all  the  strengthes  of  the 
Devils,  and  restoreth  the  yeftes  of  the  holy  gost,  and  of  all 
good  vertues,  and  it  clenseth  the  soule  of  sinne,  and  de- 
livereth it  fro  the  peine  of  helle,  and  fro  the  compagnie  of 
the  devil,  and  fro  the  servage  of  sinne,  and  restoreth  it  to 
all  goodes  spirituel,  and  to  the  compagnie  and  communion 
of  holy  chirche.    And  furtherover  it  maketh  him,  that 


526  THE  CANTEBBUBY  TALES. 

whilom  was  sone  of  ire,  to  be  the  sone  of  grace  :  and  all 
these  thinges  ben  preved  by  holy  writ.  And  therfore  he 
that  wold  set  his  entent  to  thise  thinges,  he  were  fid  wise : 
for  sothly  he  ne  shuld  have  than  in  all  hia  lif  corage  to 
sinne,  but  yeve  his  herte  and  body  to  the  service  of  Jesu 
Crist,  and  therof  do  him  homage.  For  certes  our  Lord 
Jesu  Crist  hath  spared  us  so  benignely  in  our  folies,  that 
if  he  ne  had  pitee  on  mannes  soule,  a  sory  song  might  we 
alle  singe. 

Explicit  prima  pars  penitentice;  et  incipit  pars  secunda. 

The  second  part  of  penitence  is  confession,  and  that  is 
signe  of  contrition.  Now  shul  ye  understonde  what  is  con- 
fession ;  and  whether  it  ought  'nedes  to  be  don  or  non :  and 
which  thinges  ben  covenable1  to  veray  confession. 

First  shalt  thou  understande,  that  confession  is  veray 
shewing  of  sinnes  to  the  preest ;  this  is  to  saie  veray,  for  he 
must  confesse  him  of  all  the  conditions  that  belongen  to 
his  sinne,  as  ferforth  as  he  can:  all  must  be  sayd,  and 
nothing  excused,  ne  hid,  ne  forwrapped:  and  not  avaunt 
him  of  his  good  werkes.  Also  it  is  necessarie  to  under- 
stande whennes  that  sinnes  springen,and  how  they  encresen, 
and  which  they  ben. 

Of  springing  of  sinnes  saith  Seint  Poule  in  this  wise : 
that  right  as  by  on  man  sin  entred  first  into  this  world, 
and  thurgh  sinne  deth,  right  so  deth  entreth  into  alle  men 
that  sinnen :  and  this  man  was  Adam,  by  whom  sinne 
entred  into  this  world,  whan  he  brake  the  commandement 
of  God.  And  therfore  he  that  first  was  so  mighty,  that  he 
ne  shuld  have  died,  became  swiche  on  that  he  must  nedes 
die,  whether  he  wold  or  no ;  and  all  his  progenie  in  this 
world,  that  in  thilke  maner  sinnen,  dien.  Loke2  that  in 
the  estat  of  innocence,  whan  Adam  and  Eve  weren  naked 
in  paradise,  and  no  thing  ne  hadden  shame  of  hir  naked- 
nesse,  how  that  the  serpent,  that  was  most  wily  of  all 
other  bestes  that  God  had  made,  sayd  to  the  woman:  why 
commanded  God  you,  that  ye  shuld  not  ete  of  every  tree 
in  Paradise  ?  The  woman  answered :  of  the  fruit,  sayd 
she,  of  the  trees  of  Paradise  we  feden  us,  but  of  the  fruit 
of  the  tree  that  is  in  the  middel  of  Paradise  God  forbode 
us  for  to  eten,  ne  to  touche  it,  lest  we  shuld  die.    The 

i  Agreeable,  *  Look  ye. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  527 

serpent  sayd  to  the  woman :  nay,  nay,  ye  shul  not  dien  of 
deth ;  for  soth  God  wote,  that  what  day  that  ye  etc  therof 
your  eyen  shul  open,  and  ye  shul  be  as  goddes,  knowing 
good  and  harme.  The  woman  saw  that  the  tree  was  good 
to  feding,  and  faire  to  the  eyen,  and  delectable  to  the  sight ; 
she  toke  of  the  fruit  of  the  tree  and  did  ete,  and  yave  to 
hire  husbond,  and  he  ete ;  and  anon  the  eyen  of  hem  both 
opened  :  and  whan  they  knewe  that  they  were  naked,  they 
sowed  of  a  fig-tree  leves  in  maner  of  breches,  to  hiden  Mr 
members.  Here  mow  ye  seen,  that  dedly  sinne  hath  first 
suggestion  of  the  fende,  as  sheweth  here  by  the  adder ; 
and  afterward  the  delit  of  the  flesh,  as  sheweth  here  by 
Eve ;  and  after  that  the  consenting  of  reson,  as  sheweth  by 
Adam.  For  trust  wel,  though  so  it  were,  that  the  fende 
tempted  Eve,  that  is  to  say,  the  flesh,  and  the  flesh  had 
delit  in  the  beautee  of  the  fruit  defended,  yet  certes  til 
that  reson,  that  is  to  say,  Adam,  consented  to  the  eting  of 
the  fruit,  yet  stode  he  in  the  state  of  innocence.  Of  thilke 
Adam  toke  we  thilke  sinne  original ;  from  him  fleshly 
discended  be  we  all,  and  engendred  of  vile  and  corrupt 
mater:  and  whan  the  soule  is  put  in  our  bodies,  right  anon 
is  contract  original  sinne ;  and  that,  that  was  erst  but 
only  peine  of  concupiscence,  is  afterward  both  peine  and 
sinne :  and  therfore  we  ben  all  yborne  sones  of  wrath,  and 
of  dampnation  perdurable,  if  ne  were  Baptisme  that  we 
receive,  which  benimeth  us1  the  culpe :  but  forsoth  the 

Eeine  dwelleth  with  us  as  to  temptation,  which  peine 
ight  concupiscence.  This  concupiscence,  whan  it  is 
wrongfully  disposed  or  ordeined  in  man,  it  maketh  him 
coveit,  by  coveitise  of  flesh,  fleshly  sinne  by  sight  of  his 
eyen,  as  to  erthly  thinges,  and  also  coveitise  of  highnesse 
by  pride  of  herte. 

Now  as  to  speke  of  the  first  coveitise,  that  is  concupis- 
cence, after  the  lawe  of  our  membres,  that  were  lawfully 
yniaked,  and  by  rightful  jugement  of  God,  I  say,  for  as 
moche  as  a  man  is  not  obeisant  to  God,  that  is  his  Lord, 
"therfore  is  his  herte  to  him  disobeisant  thurgh  concupis- 
cence, which  is  called  nourishing  of  sinne,  and  occasion  of 
sinne.  Therfore,  all  the  while  that  a  man  hath  within  him 
the  peine  of  concupiscence,  it  is  impossible,  but  he  be 
tempted  somtime,  and  moved  in  his  flesh  to  sinne.  And 
this  thing  may  not  faile,  as  long  as  he  liveth.    It  may  wel 

1  Taketh  away  from  u». 


528  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

waxe  feble  by  vertue  of  Baptisme,  and  by  tbe  grace  of  God 
thurgh  penitence ;  but  fully  ne  shal  it  never  quenche,  that 
he  ne  shal  somtime  be  meved  in  himselle,  but  if  he  were 
refreined  by  sikenesse,  or  malefice  of  sorcerie,  or  cold 
drinkes.  For  lo,  what  sayth  Seint  Poule :  the  flesh  coveiteth 
ayenst  the  spirit,  and  the  spirit  ayenst  the  flesh  :  they  ben 
so  contrarie  and  so  striven,  that  a  man  may  not  alway  do 
as  he  wold.  The  same  Seint  Poule,  after  his  gret  penance, 
in  water  and  in  lond  ;  in  water  by  night  and  by  day,  in 
gret  peril,  and  in  gret  peine  ;  in  lond,  in  grete  famine  and 
thurst,  cold  and  clothles,  and  ones  stoned  almost  to  deth ; 
yet  sayd  he,  alas !  I  caitif  man,  who  shal  deliver  me  fro 
the  prison  of  my  caitif  body  1  And  Seint  Jerom,  whan  he 
long  time  had  dwelled  in  desert,  wheras  he  had  no  com- 
pagnie  but  of  wilde  bestes ;  wheras  he  had  no  mete  but 
terbes,  and  water  to  his  drinke,  ne  no  bed  but  the  naked 
erth,  wherfore  his  flesh  was  black,  as  an  Ethiopian,  for 
hete,  and  nie  destroyed  for  cold :  yet  sayd  he,  that  the 
brenning  of  lecherie  boiled  in  all  his  body.  Wherfore  I 
wot  wel  sikerly1  that  they  be  deceived  that  say,  they  be 
not  tempted  in  hir  bodies.  Witnesse  Seint  James  that 
said,  that  every  wight  is  tempted  in  his  owen  conscience  ; 
that  is  to  say,  that  eche  of  us  hath  mater  and  occasion  to 
be  tempted  of  the  norishing  of  sinne,  that  is  in  his  body. 
And  therfore  sayth  Seint  John  the  Evangelist :  if  we  say 
that  we  ben  without  sinne,  we  deceive  ourself,  and  truth  is 
not  in  us. 

Now  shul  ye  understonde,  in  what  maner  sinne  wexeth 
and  encreseth  in  man.  The  first  thing  is  that  nourishing  of 
sinne,  of  which  I  spake  before,  that  is  concupiscence :  and 
after  that  cometh  suggestion  of  the  divel,  this  is  to  say,  the 
divels  belous,2  with  which  he  bloweth  in  man  the  fire  of 
concupiscence :  and  after  that  a  man  bethinketh  him, 
whether  he  wol  do  or  no  that  thing  to  which  he  is  tempted. 
And  than  if  a  man  withstond  and  weive  the  first  entising 
of  his  flesh,  and  of  the  fend,  than  it  is  no  sinne:  and  if  so. 
be  he  do  not,  than  feleth  he  anon  a  flame  of  delit,  and 
than  it  is  good  to  beware  and  kepe3  him  wel,  or  elles  he 
wol  fall  anon  to  consenting  of  sinne,  and  than  wol  he  do 
it,  if  he  may  have  time  and  place.  And  of  this  mater 
sayth  Moyses4by  the  devil,  in  this  maner:  the  fend  sayth, 

1  Surely.  -  Bellows.  3  To  warn  and  restrain. 

4  I  cannot  tell  where.  Perhaps  there  may  be  some  such  passage  in 
the  Rabbinical  histories  of  Moses. — Tyruhilt. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  529 

I  wol  chace  and  pursue  man  by  wicked  suggestion,  and  I 
wol  hent1  him  by  meving  and  stirring  of  sinne,  and  I  wol 
depart  my  pris,  or  my  prey,  by  deliberation,  and  my  lust 
shal  be  accomplised  in  delit ;  I  wol  draw  my  swerd  in  con- 
senting: (for  certes,  right  as  a  swerd  departeth  a  thing  in 
two  peces,  right  so  consenting  departeth  God  fro  man)  and 
than  wol  I  sle  him  with  my  bond  m  dede  of  sinne.  Thus 
sayth  the  fend ;  for  certes,  than  is  a  man  al  ded  in  soule ; 
and  thus  is  sinne  accomplised,  by  temptation,  by  delit,  and 
by  consenting :  and  than  is  the  sinne  actuel. 

Forsoth  sinne  is  in  two  maners,  either  it  is  venial,  or 
dedly  sinne.  Sothly,  whan  a  man  loveth  any  creature 
more  than  Jesu  Crist  our  creatour,  than  it  is  dedly  sinne  : 
and  venial  sinne  it  is,  if  a  man  love  Jesu  Crist  lesse  than 
him  ought.  Forsoth  the  dede  of  this  venial  sinne  is  ful 
perilous,  for  it  amenuseth2  the  love  that  man  shuld  have 
to  God,  more  and  more.  And  therfore  if  a  man  charge 
himself  with  many  swiche  venial  sinnes,  certes,  but  if  so  be 
that  he  somtime  discharge  him  of  hem  by  shrift,  they  may 
wel  lightly  amenuse  in  him  all  the  love  that  he  hath  to 
Jesu  Crist:  and  in  this  wise  skippeth3  venial  sinne  into 
dedly  sinne.  For  certes,  the  more  that  a  man  chargeth  his 
soule  with  venial  sinnes,  the  more  he  is  enclined  to  fall 
into  dedly  sinne.  And  therfore  let  us  not  be  negligent  to 
discharge  us  of  venial  sinnes.  For  the  proverbe  sayth, 
that  many  smal  maken  a  gret.  And  herken  this  ensample: 
A  gret  wawe  of  the  see  cometh  somtime  with  so  gret  a 
violence,  that  it  drencheth  the  ship :  and  the  same  harme 
do  somtime  the  smal  dropes  of  water,  that  enteren  thurgh 
a  litel  crevis  in  the  thurrok,4  and  in  the  botom  of  the  ship, 
if  men  ben  so  negligent,  that  they  discharge  hem  not  by 
time.  And  therfore  although  ther  be  difference  betwix 
thise  two  causes  of  drenching,  algates5  the  ship  is  dreint. 
Eight  so  fareth  it  somtime  of  dedly  sinne,  and  of  anoious* 

1  Seize  upon.  s  Lessens.  8  Leapeth,  passeth  quickly. 

4  This  seems  to  have  signified  any  sort  of  keeled  vessel,  and  from 
thence  what  we  call  the  hold  of  a  ship.  The  following  explanation  of  it 
from  an  old  book,  entitled.  "  Oure  Ladyei  Mirroure,"  (Loud.  1530.  fol. 
57.  b.)  will  fully  justify  Chaucer's  use  of  it  in  both  places,  in  the  first 
literally,  and  in  the  second  metaphorically.  "  Ye  shall  understande 
that  there  ys  a  place  in  the  bottome  of  a  shyppe,  wherin  ys  gathered 
all  the  fylthe  that  cometh  into  the  shyppe — and  it  is  called  in  some 
contra  of  thys  londe  a  thorrocke."—Tyrwhitt. 

4  Either  way.  «  HurtfuL 

45 


530  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

venial  sinnes,  whan  they  multiplie  in  man  so  gretly,  that 
thilke  worldly  thinges  that  he  loveth,  thurgh  which  he 
sinneth  venially,  is  as  gret  in  his  herte  as  the  love  of  God, 
or  more :  and  therfore  the  love  of  every  thing  that  is  not 
beset  in  God,  ne  don  principally  for  Goddes  sake,  although 
that  a  man  love  it  lesse  than  God,  yet  is  it  venial  sinne  ; 
and  dedly  sinne  is,  whan  the  love  of  any  thing  weigheth  in 
the  herte  of  man,  as  moche  as  the  love  of  God,  or  more. 
Dedly  sinne,  as  sayth  Seint  Axigustine,  is,  whan  a  man 
tourneth  his  herte  fro  God,  whiche  that  is  veray  soveraine 
bountee,  that  may  not  chaunge,  and  yeveth  his  herte  to 
thing  that  may  chaunge  and  flitte :  and  certes,  that  is  every- 
thing save  God  of  heven.  For  soth  is,  that  if  a  man  yeve 
his  love,  which  that  he  oweth  to  God  with  all  his  herte, 
unto  a  creature,  certes,  as  moche  of  his  love  as  he  yeveth 
to  the  same  creature,  so  moche  he  bereveth  fro  God,  and 
therfore  doth  he  sinne :  for  he,  that  is  dettour  to  God,  ne 
yeldeth  not  to  God  all  his  dette,  that  is  to  sayn,  all  the 
love  of  his  herte. 

Now  sith  man  understondeth  generally,  which  is  venial 
sinne,  than  is  it  covenable  to  tell  specially  of  sinnes,  whiche 
that  many  a  man  peraventure  demeth  hem  no  sinnes,  and 
shriveth  him  not  of  the  same,  and  yet  natheles  they  be 
sinnes  sothly,  as  thise  clerkes  writen ;  this  is  to  say,  at  every 
tyme  that  man  eteth  and  drinketh  more  than  sufficeth  to 
the  sustenance  of  his  body,  in  certain  he  doth  sinne ;  eke 
whan  he  speketh  more  than  it  nedeth,  he  doth  sinne ;  eke 
whan  he  herkeneth  not  benignely  the  complaint  of  the 
poure ;  eke  whan  he  is  in  hele1  of  body,  and  wol  not  fast 
whan  other  folk  fast,  without  cause  resonable ;  eke  whan 
he  slepeth  more  than  nedeth,  or  whan  he  cometh  by  that 
encheson2  to  late  to  chirche,  or  to  other  werkes  of  charitee ; 
eke  whan  he  useth  his  wif  withouten  soveraine  desire  of 
engendrure,  to  the  honour  of  God,  or  for  the  entent  to  yeld 
his  wif  his  dette  of  his  body ;  eke  whan  he  wol  not  visite 
the  sike,  or  the  prisoner,  if  he  may ;  eke  if  he  love  wif  or 
child,  or  other  worldly  thing,  more  than  reson  requireth ; 
eke  if  he  flater  or  blandise  more  than  him  ought  for  any 
necessitee ;  eke  if  he  amenuse3  or  withdrawe  the  almesse  of 
the  poure ;  eke  if  he  apparaile4  his  mete  more  deliciously 
than  nede  is,  or  ete  it  to  hastily  by  likerousnesse ;  eke  if  he 
talke  vanitees  in  the  chirche,  or  at  Goddes  service,  or  that 

1  Health.  2  Occasion. 

*  Lessen.  *  Set  out. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  531 

he  be  a  taler1  of  idle  wordes  of  foly  or  vilanie,  for  he  shal 
veld  accomptes  of  it  at  the  day  of  dome ;  eke  whan  he  be- 
highteth  or  assureth  to  don  thinges  that  he  may  not  per- 
fourme ;  eke  whan  that  he  by  lightnesse  of  foly  missayeth2 
or  scorneth  his  neighbour ;  eke  whan  he  hath  ony  wicked 
suspecion  of  thing,  ther  he  ne  wote  of  it  no  sothfastnesse  :* 
thise  thinges  and  mo  withouten  nombre  be  sinnes,  as  sayth 
Seint  Augustine.  Now  shul  ye  understonde,  that  al  be  it 
so  that  non  erthly  man  may  eschewe  al  venial  sinnes,  yet 
may  he  refreine  him,  by  the  brenning  love  that  he  hath  to 
our  Lord  Jesu  Crist,  and  by  prayer  and  confession,  and 
other  good  werkes,  so  that  it  shal  but  litel  grieve.  For  as 
sayth  Seint  Augustine ;  if  a  man  love  God  in  swiche  maner, 
that  all  that  ever  he  doth  is  in  the  love  of  God,  or  for  the 
love  of  God  veraily,  for  he  brenneth  in  the  love  of  God, 
loke  how  moche  that  o  drope  of  water,  which  falleth  into 
a  fourneis  ful  of  fire,  anoieth  or  greveth  the  brenning  of 
the  fire,  in  like  maner  anoieth  or  greveth  a  venial  sinne 
unto  that  man,  whiche  is  stedfast  and  parfite  in  the  love  of 
our  Saviour  Jesu  Crist.  Furthermore,  men  may  also  re- 
freine and  put  away  venial  sinne,  by  receiving  worthily  the 
precious  body  of  Jesu  Crist;  by  receiving  eke  of  holy 
water ;  by  almes  dede ;  by  general  confession  of  Confiteor 
at  Masse,  and  at  prime,4  and  at  complin,5  and  by  blessing 
of  Bishoppes  and  Preestes,  and  by  other  good  werkes. 


De  septetn  peccatis  mortalibiis. 

Now  it  is  behovely  to  tellen  whiche  ben  dedly  sinnes, 
that  is  to  say,  chiefetaines  of  sinnes ;  for  as  moche  as  all 
they  ren  in  o  lees,6  but  in  divers  maners.  Now  ben  they 
cleped  chiefetaines,  for  as  moche  as  they  be  chiefe,  and 
of  hem  springen  all  other  sinnes.  The  rote  of  thise  sinnes 
than  is  pride,  the  general  rote  of  all  harmes.  For  of  this 
rote  springen  certain  braunches:  as  ire,  en  vie,  accidie7  or 
slouthe,  avarice  or  coveitise,  (to  commun  understanding) 

flotonie,  and  lecherie :  and  eche  of  thise  chief  sinnes  hath 
is  braunches  and  his  twigges,  as  shal  be  declared  in  hir 
chapitres  folowing. 

1  Teller,  speaker.  *  Slandereth,  speaketh  evil  of. 

8  Certain  truth.  4  Early  matina. 

*  Even-song.  *  One  leash.  1  Negligence. 


532  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

De  superbia. 

And  though  so  he,  that  no  man  knoweth  utterly  the 
nombre  of  the  twigges,  and  of  the  harmes  that  comen  of 
pride,  yet  wol  I  shew  a  partie  of  hem,  as  ye  shul  under- 
stand. Ther  is  inohedience,  avaunting,  ipocrisie,  despit, 
arrogance,  impudence,  swelling  of  herte,  insolence,  elation, 
impatience,  strif,  contumacie,  presumption,  irreverence,  per- 
tinacie,  vaine  glorie,  and  many  other  twigges  that  I  cannot 
declare.  Inohedient  is  he  that  disobeyeth  for  despit  to  the 
commandements  of  God,  and  to  his  soveraines,  and  to  his 
gostly  fader.  Avauntour,  is  he  that  bosteth  of  the  harme 
or  of  the  bountee  that  he  hath  don.  Ipocrite,  is  he  that 
hideth  to  shew  him  swiche  as  he  is,  and  sheweth  him  to 
seme  swiche  as  he  is  not.  Despitous,  is  he  that  hath  dis- 
dain of  his  neighebour,  that  is  to  sayn,  of  his  even  Cristen,1 
or  hath  despit  to  do  that  him  ought  to  do.  Arrogant,  is 
he  that  thinketh  that  he  hath  those  bountees  in  him,  that 
he  hath  not,  or  weneth  that  he  shulde  have  hem  by  his 
deserving,  or  elles  that  demeth  that  he  be  that  he  is  not. 
Impudent,  is  he  that  for  his  pride  hath  no  shame  of  his 
sinnes.  Swelling  of  herte,  is  whan  man  rejoyceth  him  of 
harme  that  he  hath  don.  Insolent,  is  he  that  despiseth  in 
his  jugement  all  other  folk,  as  in  regarde  of  his  value,  of 
his  conning,2  of  his  speking,  and  of  his  bering.  Elation,  is 
whan  he  ne  may  neither  suffre  to  have  maister  ne  felawe. 
Impatient,  is  he  that  wol  not  be  taught,  ne  undernome3  of 
his  vice,  and  by  strif  werrieth  truth  wetingly,4  and  de- 
fendeth  his  foly.  Contumax,  is  he  that  thurgh  his  indig- 
nation is  ayenst  every  auctoritee  or  power  of  hem  that  ben 
his  soveraines.  Presumption,  is  whan  a  man  undertaketh 
an  emprise  that  him  ought  not  to  do,  or  elles  that  he  may 
not  do,  and  this  is  called  surquidrie.5  Irreverence,  is  whan 
man  doth  not  honour  ther  as  him  ought  to  do,  and  waiteth 
to  be  reverenced.  Pertinacie,  is  whan  man  defendeth  his 
foly,  and  trusteth  to  moche  in  his  owen  wit.  Vaine-glorie, 
is  for  to  have  pompe,  and  delit  in  his  temporel  highnesse, 
and  glorye  him  in  his  worldly  estate.  Jangling,  is  whan 
man  speketh  to  moche  before  folk,  and  clappeth  as  a  mille, 
and  taketh  no  kepe6  what  he  sayth. 

1  Fellow-Christian.  2  Knowledge, 

*  Reminded.  *  Knowingly. 

*  Presumption,  overweening  conceit  •  Care. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  533 

And  yet  ther  is  a  privee  spice  of  pride,  that  waiteth  first 
to  be  salewed,1  or  he  wol  salew,  all  be  he  lesse  worthy  than 
that  other  is ;  and  eke  he  waiteth2  to  sit,  or  to  go  above 
him  in  the  way,  or  kisse  the  pax,  or  ben  encensed,  or  gon 
to  offring  before  his  neighbour,  and  swiche  semblable 
thinges,  ayenst  his  duetee3  pera venture,  but  that  he  hath 
his  herte  and  his  entente,  in  swiche  a  proude  desire,  to  be 
magnified  and  honoured  beforn  the  peple. 

Now  ben  ther  two  maner  of  prides ;  that  on  of  hem  is 
within  the  herte  of  a  man,  and  that  other  is  without.  Of 
swiche  sothly  thise  foresayd  thinges,  and  mo  than  I  have 
sayd,  apperteinen  to  pride,  that  is  within  the  herte  of  man ; 
and  ther  be  other  spices  of  pride  that  ben  withouten :  but 
natheles,  that  on  of  thise  spices  of  pride  is  signe  of  that 
other,  right  as  the  gay  levesell4  at  the  Taverne  is  signe  of 
the  win  that  is  in  the  celler.  And  this  is  in  many  thinges: 
as  in  speche  and  contenance,  and  outragious  array  of  cloth- 
ing: for  certes,  if  ther  had  ben  no  sinne  in  clothing,  Crist 
wold  not  so  sone  have  noted  and  spoken  of  the  clothing  of 
thilke  rich  man  in  the  gospel.  And,  as  Seint  Gregory 
sayth,  that  precious  clothing  is  culpable  for  the  derthe*  of 
it,  and  for  his  softnesse,  and  for  his  strangenesse  and  dis- 
guising, and  for  the  superfluitee,  or  for  the  inordinate 
scantnesse  of  it,  alas !  may  not  a  man  see  as  in  our  daies, 
the  sinneful  costlewe  array  of  clothing,  and  namely  in  to 
moche  superfluitee,  or  elles  in  to  disordinate  scantnesse? 

As  to  the  firste  sinne  in  superfluitee  of  clothing,  whiche 
that  maketh  it  so  dere,  to  the  harme  of  the  peple,  not  only 
the  coste  of  the  enbrouding,  the  disguising,  endenting, 
or  barring,  ounding,6  paling,7  winding,  or  bending,  and 
semblable8  wast  of  cloth  in  vanitee  ;  but  ther  is  also  the 
costlewe  furring  in  hir  gounes,  so  moche  pounsoning  of 

»  Saluted.  2  Seeketh.  3  Due. 

4  Levesell.  See  the  n.  on  ver.  4059,  though  I  am  by  no  means  satis- 
fled  with  the  explanation  there  given  of  this  word.  The  interpretation 
of  it  in  the  Prompt.  Parv.  will  not  help  us  much.  "  Levecel  beforn  a 
wyndowe  or  other  place.  Umbraculum."  My  conjecture  with  respect 
to  the  origin  of  the  proverb,  Good  wine  need*  no  btu/i,  is  certainly  wrong. 
That  refers  to  a  very  old  practice  of  hanging  up  a  bush,  or  bough,  where 
wine  is  to  be  sold.  The  Italians  have  the  same  proverb.  At  buono  vino 
non  bisogna  frasca. — Tyrwhitt. 

s  Dearness,  cost.  6  "Waving,  as  in  our  watered  silks. 

i  Imitating  pales.  It  is  hopeless  to  expect  to  arrive  at  the  precise 
meaning  of  all  these  terms,  unless  we  could  And  specimens  of  the  gap 
incuts  to  which  they  refer.  *  Such  like. 


534  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES. 

chesel1  to  maken  holes,  so  moche  dagging  of  sheres,2  with 
the  superfluitee  in  length  of  the  foresaide  gounes,  trailing 
in  the  dong  and  in  the  myre,  on  hors  and  eke  on  foot,  as 
wel  of  man  as  of  woman,  that  all  thilke  trailing  is  veraily 
(as  in  effect)  wasted,  consumed,  thredbare,  and  rotten  with 
dong,3  rather  than  it  is  yeven  to  the  poure,  to  gret  damage 
of  the  foresayd  poure  folk,  and  that  in  sondry  wise  :  this 
is  to  sayn,  the  more  that  cloth  is  wasted,  the  more  must  it 
cost  to  the  poure  peple  for  the  scarcenesse  ;  and  further- 
over,  if  so  be  that  they  wolden  yeve  swiche  pounsoned 
and  dagged  clothing  to  the  poure  peple,  it  is  not  con- 
venient to  were  for  hir  estate,  ne  suffisant  to  bote4  bir 
necessitee,  to  kepe  hem  fro  the  distemperance  of  the  firma- 
ment. Upon  that  other  side,  to  speke  of  the  horrible  dis- 
ordinat  scantnesse  of  clothing,  as  ben  thise  cutted  sloppes 
or  hanselines,5  that  thurgh  hir  shortenesse  cover  not  the 
shameful  membres  of  man,  to  wicked  entente  ;  alas !  som 
of  hem  shewen  the  bosse6  and  the  shape  of  the  horrible 
swollen  membres,  that  semen  like  to  the  maladie  of  Her- 
nia, in  the  wrapping  of  hir  hosen,  and  eke  the  buttokkes 
of  hem  behinde,  that  faren  as  it  were  the  hinder  part  of  a 
she  ape  in  the  ful  of  the  mone.  And  moreover  the  wretched 
swollen  membres  that  they  shew  thurgh  disguising,  in  de- 

Earting7  of  hir  hosen  in  white  and  rede,  semeth  that  half 
ir  shameful  privee  membres  were  flaine.  And  if  so  be 
that  they  departe  hir  hosen  in  other  colours,  as  is  white 
and  blewe,  or  white  and  blake,  or  blake  and  rede,  and  so 
forth  ;  than  semeth  it,  as  by  variance  of  colour,  that  the 
half  part  of  hir  privee  membres  ben  corrupt  by  the  fire  of 
Seint  Anthonie,  or  by  cancre,  or  other  swiche  mischance. 
Of  the  hinder  part  of  hir  buttokkes  it  is  ful  horrible  for  to 
see,  for  certes  in  that  partie  of  hir  body  ther  as  they  pur- 
gen  hir  stinking  ordure,  that  foule  partie  shewe  they  to 
the  peple  proudely  in  despite  of  honestee,  whiche  honestee 
that  Jesu  Crist  and  his  frendes  observed  to  shewe  in  hir 
lif.  Now  as  to  the  outrageous  array  of  women,  God  wote, 
that  though  the  visages  of  som  of  hem  semen  ful  chaste 

*  Punching  or  stamping  with  a  chisel. 
2  Slitting  or  clipping  with  scissars. 

s  If  we  remember  the  description  of  Aldgate  and  Whitechapel  In  the 
writings  of  Stowe,  we  can  well  imagine  what  "  London  mud"  was  at  the 
■till  earlier  period  when  Chaucer  wrote 

*  Help.  s  Some  kind  of  breeches. 

«  Protuberance.  7  Barring  in  stripes  of  white  and  red. 


THE   PEBSONES  TALE,  535 

and  debonaire,  yet  notifien  they,  in  hir  array  of  attire, 
likerousnesse  and  pride.  I  say  not  that  honestee  in  cloth- 
ing of  man  or  woman  is  uncovenable,  but  certes  the  super- 
fluitee  or  disordinat  scarcitee  of  clothing  is  reprevable. 
Also  the  sinne  of  ornament,  or  of  apparaUe,  is  in  thinges 
that  apperteine  to  riding,  as  in  to  many  delicat  hors,  that 
ben  holden  for  delit,  that  ben  so  faire,  fatte,  and  costlewe  ; 
and  also  in  many  a  vicious  knave,  that  is  susteined  because 
of  hem  ;  in  curious  harneis,  as  in  sadles,  cropers,  peitrels,1 
and  bridles,  covered  with  precious  cloth  and  rich,  barred 
and  plated  of  gold  and  .silver.  For  which  God  sayth  by 
Zacharie  the  Prophet,  I  wol  confounde  the  riders  of  swiche 
hors.  These  folke  taken  litel  regard  of  the  riding  of  Goddes 
sone  of  heven,  and  of  his  harneis,  whan  he  rode  upon  the 
asse,  and  had  non  other  harneis  but  the  poure  clothes  of 
his  disciples,  ne  we  rede  not  that  ever  he  rode  on  ony 
other  beste.  I  speke  this  for  the  sinne  of  superfluitee, 
and  not  for  honestee,  whan  reson  it  requireth.  And  more- 
over, certes  pride  is  gretly  notified  in  holding  of  gret 
meinie,2  whan  they  ben  of  litel  profite  or  of  right  no  pro- 
fite,  and  namely  whan  that  meinie  is  felonous  and  damage- 
ous  to  the  peple  by  hardinesse  of  high  lordeship,  or  by  way 
of  office  ;  for  certes,  swiche  lordes  sell  than  hir  lordeship 
to  the  Devil  of  helle,  whan  they  susteine  the  wickednesse 
of  hir  meinie.  Or  elles,  whan  thise  folk  of  low  degree,  as 
they  that  holden  hostelries,  susteinen  thefte3  of  hir  hostel- 
lers, and  that  is  in  many  maner  of  deceites  :  thilke  maner 
of  folk  ben  the  flies  that  folowen  the  hony,  or  elles  the 
houndes  that  folowen  the  caraine.  Swiche  foresayde  folk 
strangleu  spirituelly  hir  lordeshipes  ;  for  which  thus  saith 
David  the  Prophet ;  wicked  deth  mot  come  unto  thilke 
lordeshipes,  and  God  yeve  that  they  mot  descend  into 
helle,  all  doun ;  for  in  hir  houses  is  iniquitee  and  shrewed- 
nesse,4  and  not  God  of  heven.  And  certes,  but  if  they  don 
amendement,  right  as  God  yave  his  benison  to  Laban  by 
the  service  of  Jacob,  and  to  Pharao"  by  the  service  ot 
Joseph,  right  so  God  wol  yeve  his  malison  to  swiche  lorde- 
shipes as  susteine  the  wickednesse  of  hir  servants,  but 
they  come  to  amendement.  Pride  of  the  table  appereth 
eke  ful  oft ;  for  certes  riche  men  be  cleped  to  testes,  and 
poure  folk  be  put  away  and  rebuked ;  and  also  in  excesse 

1  Poitrels,  breast-plates.  2  A  great  company  of  servant*. 

*  Permit,  wink  at  the  pilfering*.  4  Accursedness. 


536  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

of  divers  metes  and  drinkes,  and  namely  swiche  maner 
bake  metes  and  dishe  metes  brenning  of  wilde  fire,  and 
peinted  and  castelled  with  paper,  and  semblable  wast,  so 
that  it  is  abusion  to  thinke.  And  eke  in  to  gret  precious- 
nesse  of  vessell,  and  curiositee  of  minstralcie,  by  which  a 
man  is  stirred  more  to  the  delites  of  luxurie,  if  so  be  that 
he  sette  his  herte  the  lesse  upon  oure  Lord  Jesu  Crist,  it 
is  a  sinne;  and  certainely  the  delites  might  ben  so  gret  in 
this  cas,  that  a  man  might  lightly  fall  by  hem  into  dedly 
sinne.  The  spices  that  sourden  of1  pride,  sothly  whan 
they  sourden  of  malice  imagined,  avised,  and  forecaste,  or 
elles  of  usage,  ben  dedly  sinnes,  it  is  no  doute.  And 
whan  they  sourden  by  freeltee  unavised  sodenly,  and 
sodenly  withdraw  again,  al  be  they  grevous  sinnes,  I  gesse 
that  they  be  not  dedly.  Now  might  men  aske,  wherof 
that  pride  sourdeth  and  springeth.  I  say  that  somtime  it 
springeth  of  the  goodes  of  nature,  somtime  of  the  goodes 
of  fortune,  and  somtime  of  the  goodes  of  grace.  Certes 
the  goodes  of  nature  stonden  only  in  the  goodes  of  the 
body,  or  of  the  soule.  Certes,  the  goodes  of  the  body  ben 
hele  of  bpdy,  strength,  delivernesse,2  beautee,  gentrie,  fran- 
chise f  the  goodes  of  nature  of  the  soule  ben  good  wit, 
sharpe  understonding,  subtil  engine,  vertue  naturel,  good 
memorie :  goodes  of  fortune  ben  riches,  high  degrees  of 
lordshipes,  and  preisinges  of  the  peple :  goodes  of  grace 
ben  science,  power  to  suffre  spirituel  travaile,  benignitee, 
vertuous  contemplation,  withstonding  of  temptation,  and 
semblable  thinges :  of  which  foresayd  goodes,  certes  it  is 
a  gret  folie,  a  man  to  priden  him  in  ony  of  hem  all.  Now 
as  for  to  speke  of  goodes  of  nature,  God  wote  that  somtime 
we  have  hem  in  nature  as  moche  to  our  damage  as  to  our 
profite.  As  for  to  speke  of  hele  of  body,  trewely  it  passeth 
fill  lightly,  and  also  it  is  ful  ofte  enchesou*  of  sikenesse  of 
the  soule  :  for  God  wote,  the  flesh  is  a  gret  enemy  to  the 
soule :  and  therfore  the  more  that  the  body  is  hole,  the 
more  be  we  in  peril*  to  falle.  Eke  for  to  priden  him  in  his 
strength  of  body,  it  is  a  grete  folie :  for  certes  the  flesh 
coveiteth  ayenst  the  spirite :  and  ever  the  more  strong 
that  the  flesh  is,  the  sorier  may  the  soule  be :  and  over  all, 
this  strength  of  body,  and  worldly  hardinesse,  causeth  ful 
oft  to  many  man  peril  and  mischance.    Also  to  have  pride 

»  Arise  from.  2  Agility. 

•  Frankness.  *  Occasion. 


THE   PERSONES   TALE.  537 

of  gentrie  is  right  gret  folie  :  for  oft  time  the  gentrie  of 
the  body  beniraeth1  the  gentrie  of  the  soule :  and  also  we 
ben  all  of  o  fader  and  of  o  moder :  and  all  we  ben  of  o 
nature  rotten  and  corrupt,  both  riche  and  poure.  Forsoth 
o  maner  gentrie  is  for  to  preise,  that  appareilleth  mannea 
corage  with  vertues  and  moralitees,  and  maketh  him 
Cristes  child  ;  for  trusteth  wel,  that  over  what2  man  that 
sinne  hath  maistrie,  he  is  a  veray  cherl  to  sinne. 

Now  ben  ther  general  signes  of  gentilnesse ;  as  eschew- 
ing of  vice  and  ribaudrie,  and  servage  of  sinne,  in  word, 
and  in  werk  and  contenance,  and  using  vertue,  as  courtesie, 
and  clenenesse,  and  to  be  liberal ;  that  is  to  say,  large  by 
mesure ;  for  thilke  that  passeth  mesure,  is  folie  and  sinne. 
Another  is  to  remember  him  of  bountce,  that  he  of  other 
folk  hath  received.  Another  is  to  be  benigne  to  his  subgettes ; 
wherfore  saith  Seneke ;  ther  is  nothing  more  covenable  to  a 
man  of  high  estate,  than  debonairtee  and  pitee :  and  therfore 
thise  flies  that  men  clepen  bees,  whan  they  make  hir  king, 
they  chesen  on  that  hath  no  pricke,  wherwith  he  may  sting. 
Another  is,  man  to  have  a  noble  herte  and  a  diligent,  to  at- 
teine  to  high  vertuous  thinges.  Now  certes,  a  man  to  priden 
him  in  the  goodes  of  grace,  is  eke  an  outrageous  folie :  for 
thilke  yeftes  of  grace  that  shuld  have  tourned  him  to  good- 
nesse,  and  to  medicine,  tourneth  him  to  venime  and  confu- 
sion^ sayth  SeintGregorie.  Certesalso,whoso  prideth  him 
in  the  goodnesse  of  fortune,  he  is  a  gret  fool :  for  somtime  is 
a  man  a  gret  lord  by  the  morwe,  that  is  a  caitife  and  a  wretch 
or3  it  be  night :  and  somtime  the  richesse  of  a  man  is  cause 
of  his  deth :  and  somtime  the  delites  of  a  man  ben  cause  of 
grevous  maladie,  thurgh  which  he  dieth.  Certes,  the  com- 
mendation of  the  peple  is  ful  false  and  brotel4  for  to  trust ; 
this  day  they  preise,  to-morwe  they  blame.  God  wote, 
desire  to  have  commendation  of  the  peple  hath  caused  deth 
to  many  a  besy  man. 

Re-medium  Superbioe. 

Now  sith  that  so  is,  that  ye  have  understond  what  is 
pride,  and  which  be  the  spices  of  it,  and  how  mennes  pride 
sourdeth5  and  springeth ;  now  ye  shul  understond  which  is 
the  remedie  ayenst  it.  Humilitee  or  mekenesse  is  the 
remedy  ayenst  pride;  that  is  a  vertue,  thurgh  which  a  man 

i  Taketh  away.  a  Whatsoever.  ■  Before. 

*  Brittle.  «  Ariseth. 


538  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES. 

hath  veray  knowlege  of  himself,  and  holdeth  of  himself 
no  deintee,  ne  no  pris,  as  in  regard  of  his  desertes,  con- 
sidering ever  his  freeltee.  Now  ben  ther  three  maner  of 
humilitees;  as  humilitee  in  herte,  and  another  in  the 
mouth,  and  the  thridde  in  werkes.  The  humilitee  in  herte 
is  in  foure  nianers:  that  on  is,  whan  a  man  holdeth  himself 
as  nought  worth  before  God  ol  heven :  the  second  is,  whan 
he  despiseth  non  other  man :  the  thridde  is,  whan  he  ne 
recketh  nat  though  men  holde  him  nought  worth :  and  the 
fourth  is,  whan  he  is  not  sory  of  his  humiliation.  Also  the 
humilitee  of  mouth  is  in  foure  thinges ;  in  attemperat 
speche ;  in  humilitee  of  speche ;  and  whan  he  confesseth 
with  his  owen  mouth,  that  he  is  swiche  as  he  thinketh  that 
he  is  in  his  herte :  another  is,  whan  he  preiseth  the  bountee1 
of  another  man  and  nothing  therof  amenuseth.2  Humilitee 
eke  in  werkes  is  in  foure  maners.  The  first  is,  whan  he 
putteth  other  men  before  him ;  the  second  is,  to  chese  the 
lowest  place  of  all ;  the  thridde  is,  gladly  to  assent  to  good 
conseil ;  the  fourth  is,  to  stond  gladly  to  the  award  of  his 
soveraine,  or  of  him  that  is  higher  in  degree :  certain  this 
is  a  gret  werk  of  humilitee. 

De  Invidia. 

After  pride  wol  I  speke  of  the  foule  sinne  of  Envie, 
which  that  is,  after  the  word  of  the  philosopher,3  sorwe  of 
other  mennes  prosperitee ;  and  after  the  word  of  Seint 
Augustine,  it  is  sorwe  of  other  mennes  wele,  and  joye  of 
other  mennes  harme.  This  foule  sinne  is  platly  ayenst  the 
holy  gost.  Al  be  it  so,  that  every  sinne  is  ayenst  the  holy 
gost,  yet  natheles,  for  as  moche  as  bountee  apperteineth 
proprely  to  the  holy  gost,  and  envie  cometh  proprely  of 
malice,  therfore  it  is  proprely  ayenst  the  bountee  of  the 
holy  Gost.  Now  hath  malice  two  spices,  that  is  to  say, 
hardinesse  of  herte  in  wickednesse,  or  elles  the  flesh  of 
man  is  so  blind,  that  he  considereth  not  that  he  is  in  sinne, 
or  recketh  not  that  he  is  in  sinne ;  which  is  the  hardinesse 
of  the  divel.  That  other  spice  of  envie  is,  whan  that  a  man 
werrieth  trouth,  whan  he  wot  that  it  is  trouth,  and  also 
whan  he  werrieth  the  grace  of  God  that  God  hath  yeve  to 
his  neighbour :  and  all  this  is  by  envie.  Certes  than  is 
envie  the  werst  sinne  that  is ;  for  sothly  all  other  sinnes  be 

1  Goodness.  2  Detracts  from.  3  Aristotle. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  539 

Bomtime  only  ayenst  on  special  vertue :  but  certes  envie 
is  ayenst  al  maner  vertues  and  alle  goodnesse ;  for  it  is  sory 
of  all  bountee  of  his  neighbour:  and  in  this  maner  it  is 
divers  from  all  other  sinnes ;  for  wel  unnethe1  is  ther  any 
sinne  that  it  ne  hath  som  delit  in  himself,  save  only  envie, 
that  ever  hath  in  himself  anguish  and  sorwa.  The  spices 
of  envie  ben  these.  Ther  is  first  sorwe  of  other  mennes 
goodnesse  and  of  hir  prosperitee ;  and  prosperitee  ought 
to  be  kindly  mater  ofjoye;  than  is  envie  a  sinne  ayenst 
kinde.  The  seconde  spice  of  envie  is  joye  of  other  mennes 
harme ;  and  that  is  proprely  like  to  the  divel,  that  ever 
rejoyseth  him  of  mannes  harme.  Of  thise  two  spices 
cometh  backbiting;  and  this  sinne  of  backbiting  or  de- 
tracting hath  certain  spices,  as  thus :  som  man  preiseth  his 
neighbour  by  a  wicked  entente,  for  he  maketh  alway  a 
wicked  knotte  at  the  laste  ende :  alway  he  maketh  a  but  at 
the  last  ende,  that  is  digne  of  more  blame,  than  is  worth  all 
the  preising.  The  second  spice  is,  that  if  a  man  be  good,  or 
doth  or  sayth  a  thing  to  good  entente,  the  backbiter  wol 
turne  all  that  goodnesse  up  so  doun  to  his  shrewde  entente. 
The  thridde  is  to  amenuse  the  bountee  of  his  neighbour. 
The  fourthe  spice  of  backbiting  is  this,  that  if  men  speke 
goodnesse  of  a  man,  than  wol  the  backbiter  say ;  Parfay 
swiche  a  man  is  yet  better  than  he ;  in  dispreising  of  him 
that  men  preise.  The  fifth  spice  is  this,  for  to  consent 
gladly  to  herken  the  harme  that  men  speke  of  other  folk. 
This  sinne  is  ful  gret,  and  ay  encreseth  after  the  wicked 
entent  of  the  backbiter.  After  backbiting  cometh  grutch- 
ing  or  murmurance,  and  som  time  it  springe  th  of  im- 
patience ayenst  God,  and  somtime  ayenst  man.  Ayenst 
God  it  is  whan  a  man  grutcheth  ayenst  the  peine  of  helle, 
or  ayenst  poverte,  or  losse  of  catel,  or  ayenst  rain  or  tem- 
pest, or  elfes  grutcheth  that  shrewes2  have  prosperitee,  or 
elles  that  good  men  have  adversitee :  and  all  thise  thinges 
shuld  men  sufFre  patiently,  for  they  comen  by  the  rightful 
jugement  and  ordinance  of  God.  Somtime  cometh  grutch- 
ing  of  avarice,  as  Judas  grutched  ayenst  the  Magdeleine, 
whan  she  anointed  the  hed  of  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist  with 
hire  precious  oynement.  This  maner  murmuring  is  swiche 
as  whan  man  grutcheth  of  goodnesse  that  himself  doth,  or 
that  other  folk  don  of  hir  owen  catel.3    Somtime  cometh 

1  /.«.,  scarcely  is  there.  *  Ill-natured,  ill-tempered  people. 

*  Out  of  their  own  means. 


540  THE  CANTERBURY   TALES. 

murmur  of  pride,  as  ■whan  Simon  the  Pharisee  grutched 
ayenst  the  Magdeleine,  whan  she  approched  to  Jesu  Crist 
and  wept  at  his  feet  for  hire  sinnes:  and  somtime  it 
sourdeth  of  envie,  whan  men  discover  a  mannes  harme  that 
was  privee,  or  hereth  him  on  hond1  thing  that  is  false. 
Murmur  also  is  oft  among  servants,  that  grutchen  whan 
hir  soveraines  bidden  hem  do  leful2  thinges ;  and  for  as 
moche  as  they  dare  not  openly  withsay  the  commaunde- 
ment  of  hir  soveraines,  yet  wol  they  say  harme  and  grutche 
and  murmure  prively  for  veray  despit ;  which  wordes  they 
call  the  divels  Pater  noster,  though  so  be  that  the  divel  had 
never  Pater  noster,  but  that  lewed  folke  yeven  it  swiche 
a  name.  Somtime  it  cometh  of  ire  or  privee  hate,  that 
norisheth  rancour  in  the  herte,  as  afterward  I  shal  declare. 
Than  cometh  eke  bitternesse  of  herte,  thurgh  which  bitter- 
nesse  every  good  dede  of  his  neighbour  semeth  to  him 
bitter  and  unsavory.  Than  cometh  discord  that  un- 
bindeth  all  maner  of  frendship.  Than  cometh  scorning 
of  his  neighbour,  al  do  he  never  so  wel.  Than  cometh 
accusing,  as  whan  a  men  seketh  occasion  to  annoyen  his 
neighbour,  which  is  like  the  craft  of  the  divel,  that  waiteth 
both  day  and  night  to  accusen  us  all.  Than  cometh 
malignitee,  thurgh  which  a  man  annoieth  his  neighbour 
prively  if  he  may,  and  if  he  may  not,  algate  his  wicked  will 
shal  not  let,  as  for  to  brenne  his  hous  prively,  or  enpoison 
him,  or  sle  his  bestes,  and  semblable  thinges. 

Remedium  Invidioe. 

Now  wol  I  speke  of  the  remedie  ayenst  this  foule  sinne 
of  envie.  Firste  is  the  love  of  God  principally,  and  loving 
of  his  neighbour  as  himself:  for  sothly  that  on  ne  may  not 
be  without  that  other.  And  trust  wel,  that  in  the  name 
of  thy  neighbour  thou  shalt  understande  the  name  of  thy 
brother ;  for  certes  all  we  have  on  fader  fleshly,  and  on 
moder ;  that  is  to  say,  Adam  and  Eve ;  and  also  on  fader 
spirituel,  that  is  to  say,  God  of  heven.  Thy  neighbour  art 
thou  bounde  for  to  love,  and  will  him  all  goodnesse,  and 
therfore  sayth  God ;  Love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself ;  that 
is  to  say,  to  salvation  both  of  lif  and  soule.  And  moreover 
thou  shalt  love  him  in  word,  and  in  benigne  amonesting3 
and  chastising,  and  comfort  him  in  his  anoyes,  and  praya 

1  Deceiveth  him  with.  8  Lawful.  *  Admonishing. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  041 

for  him  with  all  thy  herte.  And  in  dede  thou  shalt  love 
him  in  swiche  wise  that  thou  shalt  do  to  him  in  charitee, 
as  thou  woldest  that  it  were  don  to  thin  owen  person :  and 
therfore  thou  ne  shalt  do  him  no  damage  in  wicked  word, 
ne  harme  in  his  body,  ne  in  his  catel,  ne  in  his  soule  by 
entising  of  wicked  ensample.  Thou  shalt  not  desire  his 
wif,  ne  non  of  his  thinges.  Understonde  eke  that  in  the 
name  of  neighbour  is  comprehended  his  enemy :  certes  man 
shal  love  his  enemy  for  the  commandment  of  God,  and 
sothly  thy  frend  thou  shalt  love  in  God.  I  say  thin  enemy 
shalt  thou  love  for  Goddes  sake,  by  his  commandement : 
for  if  it  were  reson  that  man  shulde  hate  his  enemy,  for- 
soth  God  n'olde  not  receive  us  to  his  love  that  ben  his 
enemies.  Ayenst  three  maner  of  wronges,  that  his  enemy 
doth  to  him,  he  shal  do  three  things,  as  thus :  ayenst  hate 
and  rancour  of  herte,  he  shal  love  him  in  herte :  ayenst 
chiding  and  wicked  wordes,  he  shal  pray  for  his  enemy: 
ayenst  the  wicked  dede  of  his  enemy  he  shal  do  him  bountee. 
For  Crist  sayth :  Love  your  enemies,  and  prayeth  for  hem 
that  speke  you  harme,  and  for  hem  that  chasen  and  pur- 
suen  you :  and  do  bountee  to  hem  that  haten  you.  Lo, 
thus  comandeth  us  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist  to  do  to  our 
enemies:  forsoth  nature  driveth  us  to  love  our  frendes, 
and  parfay  our  enemies  have  more  nede  of  love  than  our 
frendes,  and  they  that  more  nede  have,  certes  to  hem  shal 
men  do  goodnesse.  And  certes  in  thilke  dede  have  we 
remembrance  of  the  love  of  Jesu  Crist  that  died  for  his 
enemies :  and  in  as  moche  as  thilke  love  is  more  grevous 
to  performe,  so  moche  is  more  gret  the  merite,  and  ther- 
fore the  loving  of  our  enemy  hath  confounded  the  venime 
of  the  diveL  For  right  as  the  divel  is  confounded  by 
humilitee,  right  so  is  he  wounded  to  the  deth  by  the  love 
of  our  enemy :  certes  than  is  love  the  medicine  that  casteth 
out  the  venime  of  envie  fro  mannes  herte. 

De  Ira. 

After  envy  wol  I  declare  of  the  sinne  of  Ire :  for  sothly 
who  so  hath  envy  upon  his  neighbour,  anon  communly  wol 
finde  him  mater  of  wrath  in  word  or  in  dede  ayenst  him 
to  whom  he  hath  envie.  And  as  wel  cometh  Ire  of  pride 
as  of  en  vie,  for  sothly  he  that  is  proude  or  envious  is 
lightly1  wroth, 

*  Easily. 
46 


542  THE   CANTERBURY   TALES. 

This  sinne  of  Ire,  after  the  discriving1  of  Seint  Augustin, 
is  wicked  will  to  be  avenged  by  word  or  by  dede.  Ire, 
after  the  Philosophre,  is  the  fervent  blode  of  man  yquicked 
in  his  herte,  thurgh  which  he  wold  harme  to  him  that  he 
hateth:  for  certes  the  herte  of  man  by  enchaufing  and 
meving  of  his  blood  waxeth  so  troubled,  that  it  is  out  ot 
all  maner  jugement  of  reson.  But  ye  shul  understonde 
that  Ire  is  in  two  maners,  that  on  of  hem  is  good,  and  that 
other  is  wicked.  The  good  ire  is  by  jalousie  of  goodnesse, 
thurgh  the  which  man  is  wroth  with  wickednesse,  and 
again  wickednesse.  And  therfore  saith  the  wise  man,  that 
ire  is  better  than  play.  This  ire  is  with  debonairtee,  and 
it  is  wrothe  without  bitternesse :  not  wrothe  ayenst  the 
man,  but  wrothe  with  the  misdede  of  the  man :  as  saith  the 
Prophet  David ;  Irascimini,  et  nolite  peccare.  Now  under- 
stond  that  wicked  ire  is  in  two  maners,  that  is  to  say,  soden 
ire  or  hasty  ire  without  avisenient  and  consenting  of  reson ; 
the  mening  and  the  sense  of  this  is,  that  the  reson  of  a 
man  ne  consenteth  not  to  that  soden  ire,  and  than  it  is 
venial.  Another  ire  is  that  is  ful  wicked,  that  cometh  of 
felonie  of  herte,  avised  and  cast  before,  with  wicked  will  to 
do  vengeance,  and  therto  his  reson  consenteth :  and  sothly 
this  is  dedly  sinne.  This  ire  is  so  displesant  to  God,  that 
it  troubleth  his  hous,  and  chaseth  the  holy  Gost  out  of 
mannes  soule,  and  wasteth  and  destroyeth  that  likenesse 
of  God,  that  is  to  say,  the  vertue  that  is  in  mannes  soule, 
and  putteth  in  him  the  likenesse  of  the  devil,  and  benimeth 
the  man  fro  God  that  is  his  rightful  Lord.  This  ire  is  a 
ful  gret  plesance  to  the  devil,  for  it  is  the  devils  forneis 
that  he  enchaufeth  with  the  fire  of  helle.  For  certes  right 
so  as  fire  is  more  mighty  to  destroie  erthly  thinges,  than 
any  other  element,  right  so  ire  is  mighty  to  destroie  all 
spirituel  thinges.  Loke  how  that  fire  of  smal  gledes,2  that 
ben  almost  ded  under  ashen,  wol  quicken  ayen3  whan  they 
ben  touched  with  brimstone,  right  so  ire  wol  evermore 
quicken  ayen,  whan  it  is  touched  with  pride  that  is  covered 
in  mannes  herte.  For  certes  fire  ne  may  not  come  out  of 
no  thing,  but  if  it  were  first  in  the  same  thing  naturelly : 
as  fire  is  drawne  out  of  flintes  with  stele.  And  right  so  as 
pride  is  many  times  mater  of  ire,  right  so  is  rancour  norice 
and  keper  of  ire.  Ther  is  a  maner  tree,  as  sayth  Seint 
Isidore,  that  whan  men  make  a  fire  of  the  saide-tree,  and 

i  Definition.  '  Burning  embers.  s  Again. 


THE    PERSONES   TALE.  543 

cover  the  coles  of  it  with  ashen,  sothly  the  fire  therof  wol 
last  all  a  yere  or  more :  and  right  so  fareth  it  of  rancour, 
whan  it  is  ones  conceived  in  the  herte  of  som  men,  certea 
it  wol  lasten  peraventure  from  on  Easterne  day  until 
another  Easterne  day,  or  more.  But  certes  the  same  man 
is  ful  fer  from  the  mercie  of  God  all  thilke  while. 

In  this  foresaid  devils  forneis  ther  forgen  three  shrewes ; 
pride,  that  ay  bloweth  and  encreseth  the  fire  by  chiding 
and  wicked  wordes :  than  stondeth  envie,  and  holdeth  the 
hot  yren  upon  the  herte  of  man,  with  a  pair  of  longe  tonges 
of  longe  rancour :  and  than  stondeth  the  sinne  of  contumelie 
or  strif  and  cheste,1  and  battereth  and  forgeth  by  vilains 
reprevinges.2  Certes  this  cursed  sinne  annoyeth  both  to 
the  man  himself,  and  eke  his  neighbour.  For  sothly  almost 
all  the  harme  or  damage  that  ony  man  doth  to  his  neighbour 
cometh  of  wrath :  for  certes,  outrageous  wrathe  doth  all 
that  ever  the  foule  fende  willeth  or  commandeth  him ;  for 
he  ne  spareth  neyther  for  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist,  ne  his  swete 
moder ;  and  in  his  outrageous  anger  and  ire,  alas !  alas !  ful 
many  on  at  that  time,  feleth  in  his  herte  ful  wickedly,  both 
of  Ci'ist,  and  also  of  all  his  halwes.  Is  not  this  a  cursed 
vice?  Yes  certes.  Alas!  it  benimmeth3  fro  man  his  witte 
and  his  reson,  and  all  his  debonaire  lit  spirituel,  that  shuld 
kepe  his  soule.  Certes  it  benimmeth  also  Goddes  due  lord- 
ship (and  that  is  mannes  soule)  and  th»  love  of  his  neigh- 
bours :  it  striveth  also  all  day  ayenst  trouth ;  it  reveth* 
him  the  quiet  of  his  herte,  and  subverteth  his  soule. 

Of  ire  comen  thise  stinking  engendrures ;  first,  hate,  that 
is  olde  wrath :  discord,  thurgh  which  a  man  forsaketh  his 
olde  frend  that  he  hath  loved  ful  long :  and  than  cometh 
werre,  and  every  maner  of  wrong  that  a  man  doth  to  his 
neighbour  in  body  or  in  catel.5  Of  this  cursed  sinne  of  ire 
cometh  eke  manslaughter.  And  understondeth  wel  that 
homicide  (that  is,  manslaughter)  is  in  divers  wise.  Som 
maner  of  homicide  is  spirituel,  and  som  is  bodily.  Spirituel 
manslaughter  is  in  six  thinges.  First,  by  hate,  as  sayth 
St.  John:  He  that  hateth  his  brother,  is  an  homicide. 
Homicide  is  also  by  backbiting ;  of  which  backbitours  sayth 
Salomon,  that  they  have  two  swerdes,  with  which  they 
slay  hir  neighbours:  for  sothly  as  wicked  it  is  to  benime  of 
him  his  good  name  as  his  lif.    Homicide  is  also  in  yeving 

1  Debate.  2  Retorts,  recriminations. 

8  Taketh  away.  *  Bereaveth.  *  Gocda. 


544  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

of  wicked  conseil  by  fraude,  as  for  to  yeve  conseil  to  areiso 
wrongful  customes  and  talages ;  of  which  sayth  Salomon : 
A  lion  roring,  and  a  bere  hungrie,  ben  like  to  cruel  Lordes, 
in  withholding  or  abregging  of  the  hire  or  of  the  wages  of 
eervantes,  or  elles  in  usurie,  or  in  withdrawing  of  the 
almesse  of  poure  folk.  For  which  the  wise  man  sayth : 
Fedeth  him  that  almost  dieth  for  honger ;  for  sothly  but1  it 
thou  fede  him  thou  sleest  him.  And  all  thise  ben  dedly 
sinnes.  Bodily  manslaughter  is  whan  thou  sleest  him  with 
thy  tonge  in  other  maner,  as  whan  thou  commandest  to 
sle  a  man,  or  elles  yevest  conseil  to  sle  a  man.  Man- 
slaughter in  dede  is  in  foure  maners.  That  on  is  by  lawe, 
right  as  a  justice  dampneth  him  that  is  culpable  to  the 
deth:  but  let  the  justice  beware  that  he  do  it  rightfully, 
and  that  he  do  it  not  for  delit  to  spill  blood,  but  for 
keping  of  rightwisenesse.  Another  homicide  is  don  for 
necessitee,  as  whan  a  man  sleeth  another  in  his  defence, 
and  that  he  ne  may  non  other  wise  escapen  fro  his  owen 
deth :  but  certain,  and2  he  may  escape  withouten  slaughter 
of  his  adversarie,  he  doth  sinne,  and  he  shal  bere  penance 
as  for  dedly  sinne.  Also  if  a  man  by  cas  or  aventure  shete3 
an  arowe  or  cast  a  stone,  with  which  he  sleeth  a  man,  he 
is  an  homicide.  And  if  a  woman  by  negligence  overlyeth 
hire  child  in  hire  slepe,  it  is  homicide  and  dedly  sinne. 
Also  whan  a  man  disturbleth  conception  of  a  childe,  and 
maketh  a  woman  barein  by  drinkes  of  venimous  herbes, 
thurgh  which  she  may  not  conceive,  or  sleeth  hire  child 
by  drinkes,  or  elles  putteth  certain  material  thing  in  hire 
secret  place  to  sle  hire  child,  or  elles  doth  unkinde  sinne, 
by  which  man,  or  woman,  shedeth  his  nature  in  place  ther 
as  a  childe  may  not  be  conceived :  or  elles  if  a  woman  hath 
conceived,  and  hurteth  hireself,  and  by  that  mishappe  the 
childe  is  slaine,  yet  is  it  homicide.  What  say  we  eke  of 
women  that  murderen  hire  children  for  drede  of  worldly 
shame  ?  Certes,  it  is  an  horrible  homicide.  Eke  if  a  man 
approche  to  a  woman  by  desir  of  lecherie,  thurgh  which 
the  childe  is  perished ;  or  elles  smiteth  a  woman  wetingly, 
thurgh  which  she  leseth  hire  child  ;  all  thise  ben  homi- 
cides, and  horrible  dedly  sinnes.  Yet  comen  ther  of  ire 
many  mo  sinnes,  as  wel  in  worde,  as  in  thought  and  in 
dede ;  as  he  that  arretteth  upon4  God,  or  blameth  God  of 
the  thing  of  which  he  is  himself  gilty ;  or  despiseth  God 

»  Unless.  3  If.  »  Shoot  *  Imputeth  to. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  545 

and  all  his  halwes,  as  don  thise  cursed  hasardours1  in 
divers  contrees.  This  cursed  sinne  don  they,  whan  they 
felen  in  hir  herte  ful  wickedly  of  God  and  of  his  halwes: 
also  whan  they  treten  unreverently  the  sacrament  of  the 
auter,  thilke  sinne  is  so  gret,that  uuneth  it  may  be  relesed, 
but  that  the  mercy  of  God  passeth  all  his  werkes,  it  is  so 
gret,  and  he  so  benigne.  Than  cometh  also  of  ire  attry 
anger,  whan  a  man  is  sharply  amonested2  in  his  shrift  to 
leve  his  sinne,  than  wol  he  be  angry,  and  answere  hokerly3 
and  angerly,  to  defend  or  excusen  his  sinne  by  unstedfast- 
nesse  of  his  fleshe ;  or  elles  he  did  it  for  to  hold  compagnie 
with  his  felawes ;  or  elles  he  sayeth  the  fend  enticed  him  ; 
or  elles  he  did  it  for  his  youthe ;  or  elles  his  complexion  is 
so  corageous  that  he  may  not  forbere ;  or  elles  it  is  his 
destinee,  he  sayth,  unto  a  certain  age ;  or  elles  he  sayth  it 
cometh  him  of  gentilnesse  of  his  auncestres,  and  semblable 
thinges.  All  thise  maner  of  folke  so  wrappen  hem  in  hir 
sinnes,  that  they  ne  wol  not  deliver  hemself ;  for  sothly,  no 
wight  that  excuseth  himself  wilfully  of  his  sinne,  may  not 
be  delivered  of  his  sinne,  til  that  he  mekely  beknoweth4 
his  sinne.  After  this  than  cometh  swering,  that  is  expresse 
ayenst  the  commandement  of  God :  and  that  befalleth  often 
of  anger  and  of  ire.  God  sayth ;  Thou  shalt  not  take  the 
name  of  thy  Lord  God  in  idel.5  Also  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist 
sayth  by  the  word  of  Seint  Mathew:  Ne  shal  ye  not  swere 
in  all  manere,  neyther  by  heven,  for  it  is  Goddes  trone :  ne 
by  erthe,  for  it  is  the  benche  of  his  feet :  ne  by  Jerusalem, 
for  it  is  the  citee  of  a  gret  King :  ne  by  thin  hed,  for  thou 
ne  mayst  not  make  an  here  white  ne  black :  but  he  sayth, 
be  your  word,  ye,  ye,  nay,  nay ;  and  what  that  is  more,  it 
is  of  evil.  Thus  sayth  Crist.  For  Cristes  sake  swere  not 
so  sinnefully,  in  dismembring  of  Crist,  by  soule,  herte, 
bones,  and  body:  for  certes  it  semeth,  that  ye  thinken 
that  the  cursed  Jewes  dismembred  him  not  ynough,  but 
ye  dismembre  him  more.  And  if  so  be  that  the  lawe 
compell  you  to  swere,  than  reuleth  you8  after  the  lawe  of 
God  in  your  swering,  as  sayth  Jeremie ;  Thou  shalt  kepe 
three  conditions;  thou  shalt  swere  in  trouth,  in  dome,7 
and  in  rightwisenesse.  This  is  to  say,  thou  shalt  swere 
soth ;  for  every  lesing8  is  ayenst  Crist ;  for  Crist  is  veray 
trouth :  and  thinke  wel  this,  that  every  gret  swerer,  not 

1  Gamesters.  2  Admonished. 

3  Frowardly.  *  Acknowledged  *  Vain,  idly. 

*  Be  ye  guided.  7  Judgment.  8  Lying. 

46* 


546  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

compelled  lawfully  to  swere,  the  plage  shal  not  depart  fro 
his  hous,  while  he  useth  unleful  swering.  Thou  shalt  swere 
also  in  dome,  whan  thou  art  constrained  by  the  domesman1 
to  witnesse  a  trouth.  Also  thou  shalt  not  swere  for  en  vie 
neyther  for  favour,  ne  for  mede,  but  only  for  rightwise- 
nesse,  and  for  declaring  of  trouthe  to  the  honour  and 
worship  of  God,  and  to  the  aiding  and  helping  of  thin 
even2  Cristen.  And  therfore  every  man  that  taketh 
Goddes  name  in  idel,  or  falsely  swereth  with  his  mouth,  or 
elles  taketh  on  him  the  name  of  Crist,  to  be  called  a  Cristen 
man,  and  liveth  agenst  Cristes  living  and  his  teching :  all 
they  take  Goddes  name  in  ideL  Loke  also  what  sayth 
Seint  Peter ;  Actuum  iv.  Non  est  aliud  nomen  sub  ccelo,  &c. 
Ther  is  non  other  name  (sayth  Seint  Peter)  under  heven 
yeven  to  men,  in  which  they  may  be  saved ;  that  is  to  say, 
but  the  name  of  Jesu  Crist.  Take  kepe3  eke  how  precious 
is  the  name  of  Jesu  Crist,  as  sayth  Seint  Poule,  ad  Phi- 
lipenses  ii.  In  nomine  Jesu,  &c.  that  in  the  name  of  Jesu 
every  knee  of  hevenly  creature,  or  erthly,  or  of  helle,  shuld 
bowen ;  for  it  is  so  high  and  so  worshipful,  that  the  cursed 
fend  in  helle  shuld  tremble  for  to  here  it  named.  Than 
semeth  it,  that  men  that  swere  so  horribly  by  his  blessed 
name,  that  they  despise  it  more  boldely  than  did  the  cursed 
Jewes,  or  elles  the  divel,  that  trembleth  whan  he  hereth 
his  name. 

Now  certes,  sith  that  swering  (but  if  it  be  lawfully  don) 
is  so  highly  defended,  moche  worse  is  for  to  swere  falsely, 
and  eke  nedeles. 

What  say  we  eke  of  hem  that  deliten  hem  in  swering, 
and  hold  it  a  genterie  or  manly  dede  to  swere  gret  othes  ? 
And  what  of  hem  that  of  veray  usage  ne  cese  not  to  swere 
gret  othes,  al  be  the  cause  not  worth  a  strawe  ?  Certes 
this  is  horrible  sinne.  Swering  sodenly  without  avisement 
is  also  a  gret  sinne.  But  let  us  go  now  to  that  horrible 
swering  of  adjuration  and  conjuration,  as  don  thise  false 
enchauntours  and  nigromancers  in  basins  ful  of  water,  or 
in  a  bright  swerd,  in  a  cercle,  or  in  a  fire,  or  in  a  sholder 
bone  of  a  shepe :  I  cannot  sayn,  but  that  they  do  cursedly 
and  damnably  ayenst  Crist,  and  all  the  feith  of  holy 
chirche. 

What  say  we  of  hem  that  beleven  on  di vinales, l  as  by 

1  Judge.  •  Fellow, 

s  Heed.  *  Divinations. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  547 

flight  or  by  noise  of  briddes  or  of  bestes,  or  by  sorte  of 
geomancie,  by  dremes,  by  chirking1  of  dores,  or  craking  of 
houses,  by  gnawing  oi  rattes,  and  swiche  maner  wretched- 
nesse  ?  Certes,  all  thise  thinges  ben  defended2  by  God  and 
holy  chirche,  for  which  they  ben  accursed,  till  they  come 
to  amendement,  that  on  swiche  filth  set  hir  beleve. 
Charmes  for  woundes,  or  for  maladies  of  men  or  of  bestes, 
if  they  take  any  effect,  it  may  be  peraventure  that  God 
suffreth  it,  for  folk  shuld  yeve  the  more  feith  and  reverence 
to  his  name. 

Now  wol  I  speak  of  lesinges,3  which  generally  is  false 
signifiance  of  word,  in  entent  to  deceive  his  even4  Cristen. 
Some  lesing  is,  of  which  ther  cometh  non  avantage  to  no 
wight ;  and  som  lesing  turneth  to  the  profite  and  ese  of  a 
man,  and  to  the  d.immage  of  another  man.  Another  lesing 
is,  for  to  saven  his  lif  or  his  catel.  Another  lesing  cometb 
of  delit  for  to  lie,  in  which  delit,  they  wol  forge  a  long  tale, 
and  peint  it  with  all  circumstances,  wher  all  the  ground  ot 
the  tale  is  false.  Some  lesing  cometh,  for  he  wol  sustein 
his  word  :5  and  som  lesing  cometh  of  recchelesnesse  with- 
outen  avisement,  and  semblable  thinges. 

Let  us  now  touche  the  vice  of  flaterie,  which  ne  cometh 
not  gladly,  but  for  drede,  or  for  covetise.  Flaterie  is  gene- 
rally wrongful  preising.  Flaterers  ben  the  devils  nourices, 
that  nourish  his  children  with  milke  of  losengerie.  Forsoth 
Salomon  sayth,  That  flaterie  is  werse  than  detraction :  for 
somtime  detraction  maketh  an  hautein6  man  be  the  more 
humble,  for  he  dredeth  detraction,  but  certes  flaterie 
maketh  a  man  to  enhaunce  his  herte  and  his  contenance. 
Flaterers  ben  the  devils  enchauntours,  for  they  niaken  a 
man  to  wenen7  himself  be  like  that  he  is  not  like.  They 
be  like  to  Judas,  that  betrayed  God ;  and  thise  flaterers 
betrayen  man  to  selle  him  to  his  enemy,  that  is  the  devil. 
Flaterers  ben  the  devils  chappeleines,  that  ever  singen 
Placebo.  I  reken  flaterie  in  the  vices  of  ire :  for  oft  time 
if  a  man  be  wroth  with  another,  than  wol  he  flater  som 
wight,  to  susteine  him  in  his  quarrel. 

Speke  we  now  of  swiche  cursing  as  cometh  of  irous8 
herte.  Malison  generally  may  be  said  every  maner  power 
of  harme :  swiche  cursing  bereveth  man  the  regne  of  God, 

»  Creaking.  '  Forbidden.  8  Lyings. 

*  Fellow.  «  l.e.,  corroborate  a  falsehood  already  uttered. 

•  Haughty.  7  Think.  »  Wrathful. 


548  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES. 

as  sayth  Seint  Poule.  And  oft  time  swiche  cursing  wrong- 
fully retorneth  again  to  him  that  curseth,  as  a  bird 
retorneth  again  to  his  owen  nest.  And  over  all  thing 
men  ought  eschew  to  curse  hir  children,  and  to  yeve  to  the 
devil  hir  engendrure,  as  fer  forth  as  in  hem  is ;  certes  it  is 
a  grete  peril  and  a  grete  sinne. 

Let  us  than  speke  of  chiding  and  repreving,  which  ben 
ful  grete  woundes  in  mannes  herte,  for  they  unsow  the 
seames  of  frendship  in  mannes  herte :  for  certes,  unnethe 
may  a  man  be  plainely  accorded  with  him,  that  he  hath 
openly  reviled,  repreved,  and  disclaundred  :l  this  is  a  full 
grisly  sinne,  as  Crist  sayth  in  the  Gospel.  And  take  ye 
kepe  now,  that  he  that  repreveth  his  neighbour,  either  he 
repreveth  him  by  som  harme  of  peine,  that  he  hath  upon 
his  bodie,  as,  Mesel,2  croked  harlot ;  or  by  som  sinne  that 
he  doth.  Now  if  he  repreve  him  by  harme  of  peine, 
than  turneth  the  repreve  to  Jesu  Crist:  for  peine  is 
sent  by  the  rightwise  sonde3  of  God,  and  by  his  suf- 
france,  be  it  meselrie,  or  maime,  or  maladie  :  and  if  he  re- 
preve him  uncharitably  of  sinne,  as,  thou  holour,4  thou 
dronkelewe  harlot,  and  so  forth  ;  than  apperteineth  that 
to  the  rejoicing  of  the  devil,  which  ever  hath  joye  that 
men  don  sinne.  And  certes,  chiding  may  not  come  but 
out  of  a  vilains  herte,  for  after  the  haboundance  of  the 
herte  speketh  the  mouth  ful  oft.  And  ye  shul  understond, 
that  loke  by  any  way,  whan  ony  man  chastiseth  another, 
that  he  beware  fro  chiding  or  repreving :  for  trewely,  but 
he  beware,  he  may  ful  lightly  quicken  the  fire  of  anger 
and  of  wrath,  which  he  shuld  quench :  and  peraventure 
sleth  him,  that  he  might  chastise  with  benignitee.  For,  as 
sayth  Salomon,  the  amiable  tonge  is  the  tree  of  lif ;  that 
is  to  say,  of  lif  spirituel.  And  sothly,  a  dissolute  tonge 
sleth  the  spirit  of  him  that  repreveth,  and  also  of  him 
which  is  repreved.  Lo,  what  sayth  Seint  Augustine  : 
Ther  is  nothing  so  like  the  devils  child,  as  he  which  oft 
chideth.  A  servant  of  God  behoveth  not  to  chide.  And 
though  that  chiding  be  a  vilains  thing  betwix  all  maner 
folk,  yet  it  is  certes  most  uncovenable  betwene  a  man  and 
his  wif,  for  ther  is  never  rest.  And  therfore  sayth  Salo- 
mon ;  An  hous  that  is  uncovered  in  rayn  and  dropping, 
and  a  chiding  wif,  ben  like.    A  man,  which  is  in  a  drop- 

1  Slandered.  2  Thou  leper! 

*  Sending,  i.e.,  will.  4  Whoremonger. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  549 

ping  hous  in  many  places,  though  he  eschew  the  dropping 
in  o  place,  it  droppeth  on  him  in  another  place :  so  fareth 
it  by  a  chiding  wif;  if  she  chide  him  not  in  o  place,  she 
wol  chide  him  in  another :  and  therfore,  better  is  a  morsel 
of  bred  with  joye,  than  an  hous  filled  ful  of  delices  with 
chiding,  sayth  Salomon.  And  Seint  Poule  sayth;  O  ye 
women,  beth  ye  subgettes  to  your  husbonds,  as  you  be- 
hoveth  in  God ;  and  ye  men  loveth  your  wives. 

Afterward  speke  we  of  scorning,  which  is  a  wicked 
sinne,  and  namely,  whan  he  scorneth  a  man  for  his  good 
werkes :  for  certes,  swiche  scorners  faren  like  the  foule  tode, 
that  may  not  endure  to  smell  the  swete  savour  of  the  vine, 
whan  it  fiourisheth.  Thise  scorners  ben  parting  felawes1 
with  the  devil,  for  they  have  joye  whan  the  devil  winneth, 
and  sorwe  if  he  leseth.  They  ben  adversaries  to  Jesu 
Crist,  for  they  hate  that  he  loveth ;  that  is  to  say,  salva- 
tion of  soule. 

Speke  we  now  of  wicked  conseil,  for  he  that  wicked  con- 
seil  yeveth  is  a  traitour,  for  he  deceiveth  him  that  trusteth 
in  him.  But  natheles,  yet  is  wicked  conseil  first  ayenst 
himself:  for,  as  sayth  the  wise  man,  every  false  living  hath 
this  propertee  in  himself,  that  he  that  wol  annoy  another 
man,  he  annoyeth  first  himself.  And  men  shul  under- 
stand, that  man  shal  not  take  his  conseil  of  false  folk,  ne 
of  angry  folk,  or  grevous  folk,  ne  of  folk  that  loven  spe- 
cially hir  owen  profit,  ne  of  to  moche  worldly  folk,  namely, 
in  conseiling  of  maunes  soule. 

Now  cometh  the  sinne  of  hem  that  maken  discord 
among  folk,  which  is  a  sinne  that  Crist  hateth  utterly; 
and  no  wonder  is ;  for  he  died  for  to  make  concord.  And 
more  shame  don  they  to  Crist,  than  did  they  that  him 
crucified :  for  God  loveth  better,  that  frendship  be  amonges 
folk,  than  he  did  his  owen  body,  which  that  he  yave  for 
unitee.  Therfore  ben  they  likened  to  the  devil,  that  ever 
is  about  to  make  discord. 

Now  cometh  the  sinne  of  Double  tonge,  swiche  as  speke 
faire  before  folk,  and  wickedly  behind  :  or  elles  they  make 
semblaunt  as  though  they  spake  of  good  entention,  or  elles 
in  game  and  play,  and  yet  they  speken  of  wicked  entente. 

Now  cometh  bewreying2  of  conseil,  thurgh  which  a  man 
is  defamed :  certes  unnethe  may  he  restore  the  damage. 
Now  cometh  manace,  that  is  an  open  folie:  for  he  that  oft 

1  l'artners.  2  Iietraylng. 


550  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

manaceth,  he  threteth  more  than  he  may  performe  ful  oft 
time.  Now  comen  idel  wordes,  that  be  without  profite  of 
him  that  speketh  the  wordes,  and  eke  of  him  that  herken- 
eth  the  wordes :  or  ellcs  idel  wordes  ben  tho  that  ben 
nedeles,  or  without  entente  of  naturel  profit.  And  al  be 
it  that  idel  wordes  be  somtime  venial  sinne,  yet  shuld 
men  doute  hem,  for  we  shul  yeve  rekening  of  hem  before 
God.  Now  cometh  jangling,  that  may  not  come  withouten 
sinne  :  and  as  sayth  Salomon,  it  is  a  signe  of  apert  folie. 
And  therfore  a  philosophre  sayd,  whan  a  man  axed  him 
how  that  he  shuld  plese  the  peple,  he  answered  ;  Do  many 
good  werkes,  and  speke  few  jangelinges.  After  this  cometh 
the  sinne  of  japeres,  that  ben  the  devils  apes,  for  they 
make  folk  to  laugh  at  hir  japerie,  as  folk  don  at  the  gaudes1 
of  an  ape  :  swiche  japes  defendeth  Seint  Poule.  Loke  how 
that  vertuous  wordes  and  holy  comforten  hem  that  tra- 
vaillen  in  the  service  of  Crist,  right  so  comforten  the 
vilains  words,  and  the  knakkes  of  japeres,  hem  that 
travaillen  in  the  service  of  the  devil.  Thise  ben  the 
sinnes  of  the  tonge,  that  comen  of  ire,  and  other  sinnes 
many  mo. 

Remedium  Tree. 

The  remedie  ayenst  Ire,  is  a  vertue  that  cleped  is  man- 
suetude,  that  is  Debonairtee :  and  eke  another  vertue, 
that  men  clepen  patience  or  sufferaunce. 

Debonairtee  withdraweth  and  refreineth  the  stirrings 
and  mevings  of  mannes  corage  in  his  herte,  in  swich  maner, 
that  they  ne  skip  not  out  by  anger  ne  ire.  Sufferance 
suffereth  swetely  all  the  annoyance  and  the  wrong  that  is 
don  to  man  outward.  Seint  Jerome  sayth  this  of  debon- 
airtee, That  it  doth  no  harme  to  no  wight,  ne  sayth :  ne  for 
no  harme  that  men  do  ne  say,  he  ne  chafeth  not  ayenst 
reson.  This  vertue  somtime  cometh  of  nature ;  for,  as 
sayth  the  philosophre,  a  man  is  a  quick  thing,  by  nature 
debonaire,  and  tretable  to  goodnesse  :  but  whan  debonair- 
tee is  enformed  of  grace,  than  it  is  the  more  worth. 

Patience  is  another  remedy  ayenst  ire,  and  is  a  vertue 
that  suffereth  swetely  every  mannes  goodnesse,  and  is  not 
wroth  for  non  harme  that  is  don  to  him.  The  philosophre 
aayth,  that  patience  is  the  vertue  that  suffreth  debonairly 

»  Tricks. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  651 

al  the  outrage  of  adversitee,  and  every  wicked  word.  This 
vertue  maketh  a  man  like  to  God,  and  maketh  him 
Goddes  owen  childe :  aa  sayth  Crist.  This  vertue  dis- 
conifiteth  thin  enemies.  And.  therfore  sayth  the  wise  man ; 
if  thou  wolt  vanquish  thin  enemie,  see  thou  be  patient. 
And  thou  shalt  understond,  that  a  man  suffereth  foure 
maner  of  grevances  in  outward  thinges,  ayenst  the  which 
foure  he  must  have  foure  maner  of  patiences. 

The  first  grevance  is  of  wicked  wordes.  Thilke  grevance 
suffred  Jesu  Crist,  without  grutching,  ful  patiently,  whan 
the  Jewes  despised  him  and  repreved  him  ful  oft.  Suffer 
thou  therfore  patiently,  for  the  wise  man  saith :  if  thou 
strive  with  a  foole,  though  the  foole  be  wroth,  or  though 
he  laugh,  algate1  thou  shalt  have  no  reste.  That  other 
grevance  outward  is  to  have  domage  of  thy  catel.  Thera- 
yenst  suffed  Crist  ful  patiently,  whan  he  was  despoiled  of 
al  that  hrehad  in  this  lif,  and  that  n'as  but  his  clothes. 
The  thridde  grevance  is  a  man  to  have  harme  in  his  body. 
That  suffred  Crist  ful  patiently  in  all  his  passion.  The 
fourthe  grevance  is  in  outrageous  labour  in  werkes :  wher- 
fore  I  say,  that  folk  that  make  hir  servants  to  travaile  to 
grevously,  or  out  of  time,  as  in  holy  dayes,  sothly  they  do 
gret  sinne.  Hereayenst  suffred  Crist  ful  patiently,  and 
taught  us  patience,  whan  he  bare  upon  his  blessed  sholders 
the  crosse,  upon  which  he  shuld  suffer  despitous  deth. 
Here  may  men  lerne  to  be  patient;  for  certes,  not  only 
cristen  men  be  patient  for  love  of  Jesu  Crist,  and  for 
guerdon  of  the  blisful  lif  that  is  perdurable,  but  certes  the 
old  Payenes,  that  never  were  cristened,  commendeden 
and  used  en  the  vertue  of  patience. 

A  philosophre  upon  a  time,  that  wold  have  beten  his 
disciple  for  his  gret  trespas,  for  which  he  was  gretly 
meved,  and  brought  a  yerde2  to  bete  the  childe,  and  whan 
this  child  sawe  the  yerde,  he  sayd  to  his  maister :  what 
thinke  ye  to  do?  I  wol  bete  thee,  sayd  the  maister,  for 
thy  correction.  Forsoth,  sayd  the  childe,  ye  ought  first 
correct  yourself,  that  have  lost  all  your  patience  for  the 
offence  of  a  child.  Forsooth,  sayd  the  maister  all  weping, 
thou  sayest  soth :  have  thou  the  yerde,  my  dere  sone,  and 
correct  me  for  min  impatience.  Of  patience  cometh  obe- 
dience, thurgh  which  a  man  is  obedient  to  Crist,  and  to 
all  hem  to  which  he  ought  to  be  obedient  in  Crist.    And 

»  Nevertheless.  *  Staff. 


552  THE   CANTERBURY   TALES. 

understand  wel,  that  obedience  is  partite,  whan  that  a 
man  doth  gladly  and  hastily,  with  good  herte  entirely,  all 
that  he  shuld  do.  Obedience  generally,  is  to  performe 
hastily  the  doctrine  of  God,  and  of  his  soveraines,  to  which 
him  ought  to  be  obeisant  in  all  rightwisenesse. 

De  Accidia.1 

After  the  sinne  of  wrath,  now  wol  I  speke  of  the  sinne 
of  accidie,  or  slouth :  for  envie  blindeth  the  herte  of  a  man, 
and  ire  troubleth  a  man,  and  accidie  maketh  him  hevy, 
thoughtful,2  and  wrawe.3  Envie  and  ire  maken  bitternesse 
in  herte,  which  bitternesse  is  mother  of  accidie,  and  be- 
nimeth  him  the  love  of  all  goodnesse ;  than  is  accidie  the 
anguish  of  a  trouble  herte.  And  Seint  Augustine  sayth : 
It  is  annoye  of  goodnesse  and  annoye  of  harme.  Certes 
this  is  a  damnable  sinne,  for  it  doth  wrong  to  Jesu  Crist, 
in  as  moche  aa  it  benimeth  the  service  that  men  shulde  do 
to  Crist  with  alle  diligence,  as  sayth  Salomon :  but  accidie 
doth  non  swiche  diligence.  He  doth  all  thing  with  annoye, 
and  with  wrawnesse,4  slaknesse,  and  excusation,  with 
idelnesse  and  unlust.5  For  which  the  book  sayth:  Ac- 
cursed be  he  that  doth  the  service  of  God  negligently. 
Than  is  accidie  enemie  to  every  estate  of  man.  For  certes 
the  estate  of  man  is  in  three  maners:  either  it  is  the 
estate  of  innocence,  as  was  the  estate  of  Adam,  before  that 
he  felle  into  sinne,  in  which  estate  he  was  holden  to  werk, 
as  in  herying  and  adoring  of  God.  Another  estate  is  the 
estate  of  sinful  men :  in  which  estate  men  ben  holden  to 
labour  in  praying  to  God,  for  amendement  of  hir  sinnes, 
and  that  he  wold  graunt  hem  to  rise  out  of  hir  sinnes. 
Another  estate  is  the  estate  of  grace,  in  which  estate  he  is 
holden  to  werkes  of  penitence :  and  certes,  to  all  thise 
thinges  is  accidie  enemie  and  contrary,  for  he  loveth  no 
besinesse  at  all.  Now  certes,  this  foule  sinne  of  accidie  is 
eke  a  ful  gret  enemie  to  the  livelode  of  the  body;  for  it  ne 
hath  no  purveaunce  ayenst  temporel  necessitee ;  for  it 
forsleutheth,6  forsluggeth,  and  destroieth  all  goodes  tem- 
porel by  recchelesnesse. 

1  Negligence  arising  from  vexation  or  melancholy 
3  I.e.,  thoughtful  in  a  bad  sense,  brooding,  gloomy. 
8  Peevish.  4  Peevishness. 

*  Without  good  will.  6  Loseth  through  sloth. 


THE   PERSONES   TALE.  553 

The  fourth  thing  is  that  accidie  is  like  hem  that  ben  in 
the  peine  of  helle,  because  of  hir  slouthe  and  of  hir  hevi- 
nesse  :  for  they  that  be  damned,  ben  so  bound,  that  they 
may  neyther  do  wel  ne  think  wel.  Of  accidie  cometh  first, 
that  a  man  is  annoied  and  accombred  to  do  any  goodnesse, 
and  that  maketh  that  God  hath  abhomination  of  swiche 
accidie,  as  sayth  Seint  John.  • 

Now  cometh  slouthe,  that  wol  not  suffre  no  hardnesse 
ne  no  penance :  for  sothly,  slouthe  is  so  tendre  and  so 
delicat,  as  sayth  Salomon,  that  he  wol  suffre  non  hardnesse 
ne  penance,  and  therfore  he  shendeth1  all  that  he  doth. 
Ayenst  this  roten  sinne  of  accidie  and  slouthe  shuld  men 
exercise  hemself,  and  use  hemself  to  do  good  werkes,  and 
manly  and  vertuously  cachen  corage  wel  to  do,  thinking 
that  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist  quiteth  every  good  deed,  be  it 
never  so  lite.  Usage  of  labour  is  a  gret  thing:  for  it 
maketh,  as  sayth  Seint  Bernard,  the  labourer  to  have 
strong  armes  and  hard  sinewes :  and  slouthe  maketh  hem 
feble  and  tendre.  Than  cometh  drede  for  to  beginne  to 
werke  any  good  werkes :  for  certes,  he  that  enclineth  to 
sinne,  him  thinketh  it  is  to  gret  an  emprise  for  to  under- 
take the  werkes  of  goodnesse,  and  casteth  in  his  herte 
that  the  circumstances  of  goodnesse  ben  so  grevous  and 
so  chargeant  for  to  suffre,  that  he  dare  not  undertake  to 
do  werkes  of  goodnesse,  as  sayth  Seint  Gregorie. 

Now  cometh  wanhope,  that  is,  despeir  of  the  mercy  of 
God,  that  cometh  somtime  of  to  moche  outrageous  sorwe, 
and  somtime  of  to  moche  drede,  imagining  that  he  hath  do 
so  moche  sinne,  that  it  wolde  not  availe  him,  though  he 
wolde  repent  him,  and  forsake  sinne :  thurgh  which  de- 
speire  or  drede,  he  abandoneth  all  his  herte  to  every 
maner  sinne,  as  sayth  Seint  Augustine.  Which  dampnable 
sinne,  if  it  continue  unto  his  end,  it  is  cleped  the  sinne  of 
the  holy  gost.  This  horrible  sinne  is  bo  perilous,  that  he 
that  is  despeired,  ther  n'is  no  felonie,  ne  no  sinne,  that  he 
douteth  for  to  do,  as  shewed  wel  by  Judas.  Certes,  aboven 
all  sinnes  than  is  this  sinne  most  displesant  and  most 
adversarie  to  Crist.  Sothly,  he  that  despeireth  him,  is 
like  to  the  coward  champion  recreant,  that  flieth  with- 
outen  nede.  Alas!  alas!  nedeles  is  he  recreant,  and 
nedeles  despeired.  Certes,  the  mercy  of  God  is  ever  redy 
to  the  penitent  person,  and  is  above  all  his  werkes.  Alas  I 

1  liulneth. 

47 


554  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

cannot  a  man  bethinke  him  on  the  Gospel  of  Seint  Luke, 
chap,  xv.,  wheras  Crist  sayeth,  that  as  wel  shal  ther  be 
joye  in  heven  upon  a  sinful  man  that  doth  penitence,  as 
upon  ninety  and  nine  rightful  men  that  neden  no  peni- 
tence? Loke  further,  in  the  same  Gospel,  the  joye  and 
the  feste  of  the  good  man  that  had  lost  his  sone,  whan  his 
sone  was  retourned  wi^h  repentance  to  his  fader.  Can 
they  not  remembre  hem  also,  (as  sayth  Seint  Luke,  chap, 
xxiii.)  how  that  the  thefe  that  was  honged  beside  Jesu 
Crist,  sayd,  Lord,  remembre  on  me,  whan  thou  comest  in 
thy  regne  ?  Forsoth,  said  Crist,  I  say  to  thee,  to-day  shalt 
thou  be  with  me  in  paradis.  Certes,  ther  is  non  so  hor- 
rible sinne  of  man,  that  ne  may  in  his  lif  be  destroyed  by 
penitence,  thurgh  vertue  of  the  passion  and  of  the  deth  of 
Crist.  Alas !  what  nedeth  man  than  to  be  despeired,  sith 
that  his  mercy  is  so  redy  and  large?  Axe  and  have. 
Than  cometh  sompnolence,  that  is,  sluggy  slumbring, 
which  maketh  a  man  hevy,  and  dull  in  body  and  in  soule, 
and  this  sinne  cometh  of  slouthe:  and  certes,  the  time 
that  by  way  of  reson  man  shuld  not  slepe,  is  by  the  morwe, 
but  if  ther  were  cause  resonable.  For  sothly  in  the  morwe 
tide  is  most  covenable1  to  a  man  to  say  his  prayers,  and  for 
to  think  on  God,  and  to  honour  God,  and  to  yeve  almesse 
to  the  poure  that  comen  first  in  the  name  of  Jesu  Crist. 
Lo,  what  sayth  Salomon?  Who  so  wol  by  the  morwe 
awake  to  seke  me,  he  shal  find  me.  Than  cometh  negli- 
gence or  recchelesnesse  that  recketh  of  nothing.  And 
though  that  ignorance  be  mother  of  all  harmes,  certes, 
negligence  is  the  norice.  Negligence  ne  doth  no  force, 
whan  he  shal  do  a  thing,  whether  he  do  it  wel  or  badly. 

The  remedie  of  thise  two  sinnes  is,  as  sayth  the  wise 
man,  that  he  that  dredeth  God,  spareth  not  to  do  that  him 
ought  to  do  ;  and  he  that  loveth  God,  he  wol  do  diligence 
to  plese  God  by  his  werkes,  and  abandon  himself,  with  all 
his  might,  wel  for  to  do.  Than  cometh  idelnesse,  that  is 
the  yate2  of  all  harmes.  An  idel  man  is  like  to  a  place 
that  hath  no  walles ;  theras  deviles  may  enter  on  every 
side,  or  shoot  at  him  at  discoverte3  by  temptation  on  every 
side.  This  idelnesse  is  the  thurrok4  of  all  wicked  and 
vilains  though tes,  and  of  all  jangeles,  trifles,  and  all  ordure. 
Certes  heven  is  yeven  to  hem  that  will  labour,  and  not  to 

»  Fitting.  «  Gate. 

1  Uncovered.  *  Hold. 


THE  PEKSONES  TALE.  555 

idel  folk.  Also  David  sayth,  they  ne  be  not  in  the  labour 
of  men,  ne  they  shul  not  ben  whipped  with  men,  that  is 
to  say,  in  purgatorie.  Certes  than  semeth  it  they  shul 
ben  tormented  with  the  devil  in  helle,  but  if  they  do 
penance. 

Than  cometh  the  sinne  that  men  clepen  Tarditas,  as 
whan  a  man  is  latered,1  or  taryed  or  he  wol  tourne  to  God : 
and  certes,  that  is  a  gret  folie.  He  is  like  him  that  falleth 
in  the  diche,  and  wol  not  arise.  And  this  vice  cometh  of 
false  hope,  that  thinketh  that  he  shal  live  long,  but  that  hope 
failleth  ful  oft. 

Than  cometh  Lachesse,2  that  is,  he  that  whan  he  begin- 
neth  any  good  werk,  anon  he  wol  forlete  it  and  stint,  as 
don  they  that  have  any  wight  to  governe,  and  ne  take  of 
him  no  more  kepe,  anon  as  they  find  any  contrary  or  any 
annoy.  Thise  ben  the  newe  shepherdes,  that  let  hir  shepe 
wetingly  go  renne  to  the  wolf,  that  is  in  the  breres,  and 
do  no  force  of  hir  owen  governance.  Of  this  cometh 
poverte  and  destruction,  both  of  spirituel  and  temporel 
thinges.  Than  cometh  a  maner  coldnesse,  that  freseth  all 
the  herte  of  man.  Than  cometh  imdevotion,  thurgh  which 
a  man  is  so  blont,  as  sayth  Seint  Bernard,  and  hath  swiche 
langour  in  his  soule,  that  he  may  neyther  rede  ne  sing  in 
holy  chirche,  ne  here  ne  thinke  of  no  devotion,  ne  travaile 
with  his  hondes  in  no  good  werk,  that  it  n'is  to  him 
unsavory  and  all  apalled.  Than  wexeth  he  sluggish  and 
slombry,  and  sone  wol  he  be  wroth,  and  sone  is  enclined  to 
hate  and  to  envie.  Than  cometh  the  sinne  of  worldly  sorwe 
swiche  as  is  cleped  Tristitia,  that  sleth  a  man,  as  sayth 
Seint  Poule.  For  certes  swiche  sorwe  werketh  to  the  deth 
of  the  soule  and  of  the  body  also,  for  therof  cometh,  that  a 
man  is  annoied  of  his  owen  lif.  Wherfore  swiche  sorwe 
shorteth  the  lif  of  many  a  man,  or  that  his  time  is  come  by 
way  of  kinde.3 

Remedium  Accidice. 

Ayenst  this  horrible  sinne  of  accidie,  and  the  braunches 
of  the  same,  ther  is  a  vertue  that  is  called  fortitudo  or 
strength,  that  is,  an  affection,  thurgh  which  a  man  des- 
piseth  noyous4  thinges.  This  vertue  is  so  mighty  and  so 
vigorous,  that  it  dare  withstond  mightily,and  wrastle  ayenst 

i  Delayed.  *  Slackness. 

9  Nature.  *  Noisome,  vexatious. 


656  THE  CANTERBURY  TALE3. 

the  assautes  of  the  devil,  and  wisely  kepe  himself  fro  periles 
that  ben  wicked ;  for  it  enhaunseth  and  enf  orceth  the  soule, 
right  as  accidie  abateth  and  maketh  it  feble :  for  this  for- 
titudo  may  endure  with  long  suiferance  the  travailles  that 
ben  covenable. 

This  vertue  hath  many  spices;  the  first  is  cleped  mag- 
nanimitee,  that  is  to  say,  gret  corage.  For  certes  ther 
behoveth  gret  corage  ayenst  accidie,  lest  that  it  swalowe 
the  soule  by  the  sinne  of  sorwe,  or  destroy  it  with  wan- 
hope.  Certes,  this  vertue  maketh  folk  to  undertake  hard 
and  grevous  thinges  by  hir  owen  will,  wisely  and  resonably. 
And  for  as  moche  as  the  devil  fighteth  ayenst  man  more 
by  queintise1  and  sleight  than  by  strength,  therfore  shal  a 
man  withstond  him  by  wit,  by  reson,  and  by  discretion. 
Than  ben  ther  the  vertues  of  feith,  and  hope  in  God  and 
in  his  seintes,  to  acheven  and  accomplice  the  good  werkes, 
in  the  which  he  purposeth  fermely  to  continue.  Than 
cometh  seuretee  or  sikernesse,2  and  that  is  whan  a  man  ne 
douteth  no  travaile  in  time  coming  of  the  good  werkes 
that  he  hath  begonne.  Than  cometh  magnificence,  that  is  to 
say,  whan  a  man  doth  arid  performeth  gret  werkes  of  good- 
nesse,  that  he  hath  begonne,  and  that  is  the  end  why  that 
men  shuld  do  good  werkes.  For  in  the  accomplishing  of 
good  werkes  lieth  the  gret  guerdon.  Than  is  ther  con- 
stance,  that  is  stablenesse  of  corage,  and  this  shuld  be  in 
herte  by  stedfast  feith,  and  in  mouth,  and  in  bering,  in 
chere,  and  in  dede.  Eke  ther  ben  mo  special  remedies 
ayenst  accidie,  in  divers  werkes,  and  in  consideration  of 
the  peines  of  helle  and  of  the  joyes  of  heven,  and  in  trust  of 
the  grace  of  the  holy  gost,  that  will  yeve  him  might  to 
performe  his  good  entent. 

De  Avaritia. 

After  accidie  wol  I  speke  of  avarice,  and  of  coveitise.  Of 
which  sinne  Seint  Poule  sayth  :  The  rote  of  all  harmes  is 
coveitise.  For  sothly,  whan  the  herte  of  man  is  con- 
founded in  itself  and  troubled,  and  that  the  soule  hath  lost 
the  comfort  of  God,  than  seketh  he  an  idel  solas3  of  worldly 
thinges. 

Avarice,  after  the  description  of  Seint  Augustine,  is  a 
likerousnesse  in  herte  to  have  erthly  thinges.    Som  other 

1  Stealtliiness,  craft.  3  Certainty.  s  Solace. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  557 

folk  8ayn,  that  avarice  is  for  to  purchase  many  erthly 
thinges,  and  nothing  to  yeve  to  hem  that  han  nede.  And 
understond  wel,  that  avarice  standeth  not  only  in  land  ne 
catel,1  but  som  time  in  science  and  in  glorie,  and  in  every 
maner  outrageous  thing  is  avarice.  And  the  difference 
betwene  avarice  and  coveitise  is  this :  coveitise  is  for  to 
coveit  swiche  thinges  as  thou  hast  not ;  and  avarice  is  to 
withholde  and  kepe  swiche  thinges  as  thou  hast,  without 
rightful  nede.  Sothly,  this  avarice  is  a  sinne  that  is  ful 
danipnable,  for  all  holy  writ  curseth  it,  and  speketh  ayenst 
it,  for  it  doth  wrong  to  Jesu  Crist ;  for  it  bereveth  him  the 
love  that  men  to  him  owen,  and  tourneth  it  backward 
ayenst  all  reson,  and  maketh  that  the  avaricious  man  hath 
more  hope  in  his  catel  than  in  Jesu  Crist,  and  doth  more 
observance  in  keping  of  his  tresour,  than  he  doth  in  the 
service  of  Jesu  Crist.  And  therfore  sayth  Seint  Poul, 
That  an  avaricious  man  is  the  thraldome  of  idolatrie. 

What  difference  is  ther  betwix  an  idolastre,  and  an 
avaricious  man?  But  that  an  idolastre  peraventure  ne 
hath  not  but  o  maumet2  or  two,  and  the  avaricious  man 
hath  many:  for  certes,  every  florein  in  his  coffre  is  his 
maumet.  And  certes,  the  sinne  of  maumetrie  is  the  first 
that  God  defended3  in  the  ten  commandments,  as  bereth 
witnesse,  Exod.  Cap.  xx.  Thou  shalt  have  no  false  goddes 
before  me,  ne  thou  shalt  make  to  thee  no  graven  thing. 
Thus  is  an  avaricious  man,  that  loveth  his  tresour  before 
God,  an  idolastre.  And  thurgh  this  cursed  sinne  of  avarice 
and  coveitise  cometh  thise  hard  lordships,  thurgh  which 
men  ben  distreined  by  tallages,  customes,  and  cariages, 
more  than  hir  dutee  or  reson  is :  and  eke  take  they  of  hir 
bondmen  amercementes,4  which  might  more  resonably  be 
called  extortions  than  amercementes.  Of  which  amerce- 
mentes, or  raunsoming  of  bondmen,  som  lordes  stewardes 
say,  that  it  is  rightful,  for  as  moche  as  a  cherl  hath  no 
temporel  thing,  that  it  ne  is  his  lordes,  as  they  say.  But 
certes,  thise  lordshippes  don  wrong,  that  bereven  hir 
bondmen  thinges  that  they  never  yave  hem.  Augustinns 
de  Civitate  Dei,  Libro  ix.  Soth  is,  that  the  condition  of 
thraldom,  and  the  first  cause  of  thraldom  was  for  sinne. 
Genesis  v. 

Thus  may  ye  see,  that  the  gilt  deserved  thraldom,  but 
not  nature.     Wherfore  thise  lordes  ne  shuld  not  to  moche 

1  Goods.  s  Idol. 

3  Forbade.  *  Fines. 

47* 


558  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

glorifie  hem  in  hir  lordshipes,  sith  that  they  by  naturel 
condition  ben  not  lordes  of  hir  thralles,  but  that  thraldom 
came  first  by  the  deserte  of  sinne.  And  furtherover,  ther 
as  the  lawe  sayth,  that  temporel  goodes  of  bondfolk  ben 
the  goodes  of  hir  lord :  ye,  that  is  for  to  understond,  the 
goodes  of  the  emperour,  to  defend  hem  in  hir  right,  but 
not  to  robbe  hem  ne  to  reve1  hem.  Therfore  sayth  Seneca : 
The  prudent  shuld  live  benignely  with  the  thral.2  Tho  that 
thou  clepest  thy  thralles,  ben  Goddes  peple :  for  humble 
folk  ben  Cristes  frendes ;  they  ben  contubernial  with  the 
Lord  thy  king. 

Thinke  also,  that  of  swiche  seed  as  cherles  springen,  of 
swiche  seed  springen  lordes :  as  wel  may  the  cherl  be  saved 
as  the  Lord.  The  same  deth  that  taketh  the  cherl,  swiche 
deth  taketh  the  Lord.  Wherfore  I  rede,3  do  right  so  with 
thy  cherl  as  thou  woldest  that  thy  Lord  did  with  thee,  it 
thou  were  in  his  plight.  Every  sinful  man  is  a  cherl  to 
sinne:  I  rede  thee,  thou  Lord,  that  thou  reule  thee  in 
swiche  wise,  that  thy  cherles  rather  love  thee  than  drede 
thee.  I  wote  weL  that  ther  is  degree  above  degree,  as 
reson  is,  and  skill  is,4  that  men  do  hir  devoir,  ther  as  it  is 
due :  but  certes,  extortion,  and  despit  of  your  underlinges, 
is  dampnable. 

And  furthermore  understond  wel, that  thise  conqueroures 
or  tyrantes  maken  ful  oft  thralles  of  hem,  that  ben  borne 
of  as  royal  blood  as  ben  they  that  hem  conqueren.  This 
name  of  Thraldom  was  never  erst  couthe,5  til  that  Noe 
sayd,  that  his  sone  Cham  shuld  be  thrall  to  his  brethren 
for  his  sinne.  What  say  we  than  of  hem  that  pille6  and  don 
extortions  to  holy  Chirche  ?  Certes,  the  swerd  that  men 
yeven  first  to  a  knight  whan  he  is  newe  dubbed,  signifieth, 
that  he  shuld  defend  holy  Chirche,  and  not  robbe  it  ne 
pille  it:  and  who  so  doth  is  traitour  to  Crist.  As  saith 
Seint  Augustine,  Tho  ben  the  devils  wolves,  that  straugelen 
the  shepe  of  Jesu  Crist,  and  don  worse  than  wolves :  for 
sothly,  whan  the  wolf  hath  full  his  wombe,  he  stinteth  to 
strangle  shepe :  but  sothly,  the  pillours7  and  destroiers  of 
holy  Chirches  goodes  ne  do  not  so,  for  they  ne  stint  never 
to  pille.  Now  as  I  have  sayd,  sith  so  is,  that  sinne  was 
first  cause  of  thraldom,  than  is  it  thus,  that  at  the  time  that 

*  Take  away.  8  Slave,  servant. 

*  Advise,  say.  *  It  is  meet. 

*  Known.  *  Pillage.  7  Pillagers. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  559 

all  this  world  was  in  sinne,  than  was  all  this  world  in 
thraldom,  and  in  subjection:  but  certes,  sith  the  time  of 

frace  came,  God  ordeined,  that  som  folk  shuld  be  more 
igh  in  estate  and  in  degree,  and  som  folk  more  lowe,  and 
that  everich  shuld  be  served  in  his  estate  and  his  degree. 
And  therfore  in  som  contrees  ther  as  they  ben  thralles, 
whan  they  have  tourned  hem  to  the  feith,  they  make  hir 
thralles  free  out  of  thraldom :  and  therfore  certes  the  Lord 
oweth  to  his  man,  that  the  man  oweth  to  the  Lord.  The 
Pope  clepeth  himself  servant  of  the  servants  of  God.  But 
for  as  moche  as  the  estate  of  holy  Chirche  ne  might  not 
have  ben,  ne  the  commun  profite  might  not  have  be  kept, 
ne  pees  ne  rest  in  erthe,  but  if  God  had  ordeined,  that  som 
men  have  higher  degree,  and  som  men  lower;  therfore  was 
soveraintee  ordeined  to  kepe,  and  mainteine,  and  defend 
hire  underlinges  or  hire  subjectes  in  reson,  as  ferforth  as  it 
lieth  in  hire  power,  and  not  to  destroy  hem  ne  confound. 
Wherfore  I  say,  that  thilke  lordes  that  ben  like  wolves, 
that  devoure  the  possessions  or  the  catel  of  poure  folk 
wrongfully,  withouten  mercy  or  mesure,  they  shul  receive 
by  the  same  mesure  that  they  have  mesured  to  poure  folk 
the  mercy  of  Jesu  Crist,  but  they  it  amende.  Now  cometh 
deceit  betwix  marchant  and  marchant.  And  thou  shalt 
understond,  that  marchandise  is  in  two  maners,  that  on  is 
bodily,  and  that  other  is  gostly :  that  on  is  honest  and  leful,1 
and  that  other  is  dishonest  and  unleful.  The  bodily  mar- 
chandise, that  is  leful  and  honest, is  this:  that  ther  as  God 
hath  ordeined,  that  a  regne  or  a  contree  is  sufhsant  to  him- 
self, than  it  is  honest  and  leful,  that  of  the  haboundaunce  of 
this  contree  men  helpe  another  contree  that  is  nedy:  and 
therfore  ther  must  be  marchants  to  bring  fro  on  contree  to 
another  hir  marchandise.  That  other  marchandise,  that 
men  haunten  with  fraude,  and  trecherie,  and  deceit,  with 
lesinges2  and  false  othes,  is  right  cursed  and  dampnable. 
Spirituel  marchandise  is  proprely  simonie,  that  is,  ententif3 
desire  to  buy  thing  spirituel,  that  is,  thing  which  apper- 
teineth  to  the  seintuarie4  of  God,  and  to  the  cure  of  the 
soule.  This  desire,  if  so  be  that  a  man  do  his  diligence  to 
performe  it,  al  be  it  that  his  desire  ne  take  non  effect,  yet 
it  is  to  him  a  dedly  sinne:  and  if  he  be  ordered,  he  is 
irreguler.    Certes  simonie  is  cleped  of  Simon  Magus,  that 

i  Lawful.  t  Lies. 

*  Intentional.  *  Sanctuary,  holiness. 


560  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES. 

wold  have  bought  for  temporal  catel  the  yefte  that  God  had 
yeven  by  the  holy  gost  to  Seint  Peter,  and  to  the  Apostles : 
and  therfore  understond  ye,  that  both  he  that  selleth  and 
he  that  byeth  thinges  spirituel  ben  called  Simoniackes,  be 
it  by  catel,  be  it  by  procuring,  or  by  fleshly  praier  of  his 
frendes,  fleshly  frendes,  or  spirituel  frendes,  fleshly  in  two 
maners,  as  by  kinrede  or  other  frendes :  sothly,  if  they  pray 
for  him  that  is  not  worthy  and  able,  it  is  simonie,  if  he  take 
the  benefice ;  and  if  he  be  worthy  and  able,  ther  is  non. 
That  other  maner  is,  whan  man,  or  woman,  prayeth  for 
folk  to  avancen  hem  only  for  wicked  fleshly  affection  which 
they  have  unto  the  persons,  and  that  is  foule  simonie.  But 
certes,  in  service,  for  which  men  yeven  thinges  spirituel 
unto  hir  servants,  it  must  be  understonde,  that  the  service 
must  be  honest,  or  elles  not,  and  also,  that  it  be  without 
bargaining,  and  that  the  person  be  able.  For  (as  sayth 
Seint  Damascen)  all  the  sinnes  of  the  world,  at  regard  of 
this  sinne,  ben  as  thing  of  nought,  for  it  is  the  gretest  sinne 
that  may  be  after  the  sinne  of  Lucifer  and  of  Anticrist :  for 
by  this  sinne  God  forleseth1  the  chirche  and  the  soule, 
which  he  bought  with  his  precious  blood,  by  hem  that 
yeven  chirches  to  hem  that  ben  not  digne,  for  they  put  in 
theves,  that  stelen  the  soules  of  Jesu  Crist,  and  destroyen 
his  patrimonie.  By  swiche  undigne  preestes  and  curates, 
han  lewed  men  lesse  reverence  of  the  sacramentes  of  holy 
chirche :  and  swiche  yevers2  of  chirches  put  the  children 
of  Crist  out,  and  put  into  chirches  the  divels  owen  sones : 
they  sellen  the  soules  that  lambes  shuld  kepe  to  the  wolf, 
which  strangleth  hem :  and  therfore  shall  they  never  have 
part  of  the  pasture  of  lambes,  that  is,  in  the  blisse  of  heven. 
Now  cometh  hasardrie3  with  his  apertenauntes,4  as  tables 
and  rafles,  of  which  cometh  deceit,  false  othes,  chidings, 
and  all  raving,  blaspheming,  and  reneying  of  God,  hate  of 
his  neyghbours,  wast  of  goodes,  mispending  of  time,  and 
somtime  manslaughter.  Certes,  hasardours  ne  mow  not  be 
without  grete  sinne.  Of  avarice  comen  eke  lesinges,  theft, 
false  witnesse,  and  false  othes :  and  ye  shul  understonde, 
that  these  be  gret  sinnes,  and  expresse  ayenst  the  com- 
mandements  of  God,  as  I  have  saya.  False  witnesse  is  eke 
in  word,  and  in  dede :  in  word,  as  for  to  bereve  thy  neigh- 
bours good  name  by  thy  false  witnesse,  or  bereve  him  his 

1  Entirely  losetu.  2  Such  givers. 

5  Hazard-  *  Appurtenances. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  6G1 

catel  or  his  heritage  by  thy  false  witnessing,  whan  thou 
for  ire,  or  for  mede,  or  for  envie,  berest  false  witnesse,  or 
accusest  him,  or  excusest  thyself  falsely.  Ware  ye  quest- 
mongers1  and  notaries:  certes,  for  false  witnessing,  was 
Susanna  in  ful  gret  sorwe  and  peine,  and  many  another  mo. 
The  sinne  of  theft  is  also  expresse  ayenst  Goddes  hest,  and 
that  in  two  maners,  temporel,  and  spirituel :  the  temporel 
theft  is,  as  for  to  take  thy  neighbours  catel  ayenst  his  will, 
be  it  by  force  or  by  sleight ;  be  it  in  meting  or  mesure ;  by 
steling;  by  false  enditements  upon  him;  and  in  borowing 
of  thy  neighbours  catel,  in  entent  never  to  pay  it  ayen,  and 
semblable  thinges.  Spirituel  theft  is  sacrilege,  that  is  to 
say,  hurting  of  holy  thinges,  or  of  thinges  sacred  to  Crist, 
in  two  maners ;  by  reson  of  the  holy  place,  as  chirches  or 
chirches  hawes  ;3  (for  every  vilains  sinne,  that  men  don  in 
swiche  places,  may  be  called  sacrilege,  or  every  violence  in 
semblable  places)  also  they  that  withdrawe  falsely  the 
rentes  and  rightes  that  longen3  to  holy  chirche ;  and  plainly 
and  generally,  sacrilege  is  to  reve4  holy  thing  fro  holy  place, 
or  unholy  thing  out  of  holy  place,  or  holy  thing  out  of 
unholy  place. 

Remedium  Avaritice. 

Now  shul  ye  understond,  that  releving5  of  avarice  is 
misericorde  and  pitee  largely  taken.  And  men  might  axe, 
why  that  misericorde  and  pitee  are  releving  of  avarice ; 
certes,  the  avaricious  man  sheweth  no  pitee  ne  misericorde 
to  the  nedeful  man.  For  he  deliteth  him  in  the  keping  of  his 
tresour,  and  not  in  the  rescouing  ne  releving  of  his  even* 
Cristen.  And  therfore  speke  I  first  of  misericorde.  Than 
is  misericorde  (as  sayth  the  Philosophre)  a  vertue,  by 
which  the  corage  of  man  is  stirred  by  the  misese7  of  him 
that  is  misesed.  Upon  which  misericorde  foloweth  pitee, 
in  performing  and  fulfilling  of  charitable  werkes  of  mercie, 
helping  and  comforting  him  that  is  misesed.  And  certes, 
this  meveth  a  man  to  misericorde  of  Jesu  Crist,  that  he 
yave  himself  for  our  offence,  and  suffred  deth  for  miseri- 
corde, and  foryaf  us  our  original  sinnes,  and  therby  relesed 
us  fro  the  peine  of  hell,  and  amenused8  the  peiues  of  pur- 
gatory by  penitence,  and  yeveth  us  grace  wel  to  do,  and  at 

>  Packers  of  jurie*  or  inquests.  a  Churchyard*. 

3  Belong.  4  Take.  •  Belieying. 

•  Fellow.  '  Uneasiness.  *  Took  away. 


662  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

last  the  blisse  of  hevert.  The  spices  of  misericorde  ben  for 
to  lene,1  and  eke  for  to  yeve,  and  for  to  foryeve  and  relese, 
and  for  to  have  pitee  in  herte,  and  compassion  of  the  mis- 
chefe  of  his  even  Cristen,  and  also  to  chastise  ther  as  nede 
is.  Another  maner  of  remedy  ayenst  avarice,  is  resonable 
largesse :  but  sothly,  here  behoveth  the  consideration  of 
the  grace  of  Jesu  Crist,  and  of  the  temporel  goodes,  and 
also  of  the  goodes  perdurable  that  Jesu  Crist  yave  to  us, 
and  to  have  remembrance  of  the  deth  which  he  shal 
receive,  he  wote  not  whan :  and  eke  that  he  shal  forgon  all 
that  he  hath,  save  only  that  which  he  hath  dispended  in 
good  werkes. 

But  for  as  moche  as  som  folk  ben  unmesurable,  men 
oughten  for  to  avoid  and  eschue  fool-largesse,2  the  whiche 
men  clepen  waste.  Certes,  he  that  is  lool-large,  he  yeveth 
not  his  catel,  but  he  leseth  his  catel.  Sothly,  what  thing 
that  he  yeveth  for  vaine-glory,  as  to  minstrals,  and  to  folk 
that  bere  his  renome  in  the  world,  he  hath  do  sinne  therof, 
and  non  almesse :  certes,  he  leseth  foule  his  good,  that  ne 
seketh  with  the  yefte3  of  his  good  nothing  but  sinne.  He 
is  like  to  an  hors  that  seketh  rather  to  drink  drovy4  or 
troubled  water,  than  for  to  drink  water  of  the  clere  well. 
And  for  as  moche  as  they  yeven  ther  as5  they  shuld  nat 
yeven,  to  hem  apperteineth  thilke  malison,  that  Crist  shal 
yeve  at  the  day  of  dome  to  hem  that  shul  be  dampned. 

De  Gvld. 

After  avarice  cometh  glotonie,  which  is  expresse  ayenst 
the  commandement  of  God.  Glotonie  is  unmesurable 
appetit  to  ete  or  to  drinke :  or  elles  to  do  in  ought  to  the 
unmesurable  appetit  and  disordeined  coveitise  to  ete  or 
drinke.  This  sinne  corrupted  all  this  world,  as  is  wel 
shewed  in  the  sinne  of  Adam  and  of  Eve.  Loke  also  what 
sayth  Seint  Poule  of  glotonie.  Many  (sayth  he)  gon,  of 
which  I  have  ofte  said  to  you,  and  now  I  say  it  weping, 
that  they  ben  the  enemies  of  the  crosse  of  Crist,  of  which 
the  end  is  deth,  and  of  which  hir  wombe6  is  hir  God  and 
hir  glorie;  in  confusion  of  hem  that  so  serven  erthly 
thinges.  He  that  is  usant7  to  this  sinne  of  glotonie,  he  ne 
may  no  sinne  withstond,  he  must  be  in  servage  of  all  vices, 

*  Lend.  *  Foolish  liberality. 

*  Gift.  *  Dirty.  *  Give  where. 

*  Belly.  7  Accustomed,  given. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  563 

for  it  is  the  devils  horde,  ther  he  hideth  him  and  resteth. 
This  sinne  hath  many  spices.  The  first  is  dronkennesse, 
that  is  the  horrible  sepulture  of  mannes  reson :  and  there- 
fore whan  a  man  is  dronke,  he  hath  lost  his  reson :  and 
this  is  dedly  sinne.  But  sothly,  whan  that  a  man  is  not 
wont1  to  strong  drinkes,  and  peraventure  ne  knoweth  not 
the  strength  of  the  drinke,  or  hath  feblenesse  in  his  hed,  or 
hath  travailled,  thurgh  which  he  drinketh  the  more,  al  be 
he  sodenly  caught  with  drinke,  it  is  no  dedly  sinne,  but 
venial.  The  second  spice  of  glotonie  is,  that  the  spirit  of 
a  man  wexeth  all  trouble  for  dronkennesse,  and  bereveth  a 
man  the  discretion  of  his  wit.  The  thridde  spice  of  glotonie 
is,  whan  a  man  devoureth  his  mete,  and  hath  not  rightful 
maner  of  eting.  The  fourthe  is,  whan  thurgh  the  gret 
abundance  of  his  mete,  the  humours  in  his  body  ben  dis- 
tempered. The  fifthe  is,  foryetfulnesse  by  to  moche  drink- 
ing, for  which  somtime  a  man  forgeteth  by  the  morwe,  what 
he  did  over  eve. 

In  other  maner  ben  distinct  the  spices  of  glotonie,  after 
Seint  Gregorie.  The  first  is,  for  to  ete  before  time.  The 
second  is,  whan  a  man  geteth  him  to  delicat  mete  or  drinke. 
The  thridde  is,  whan  men  taken  to  moche  over  mesure. 
The  fourth  is  curiositee,2  with  gret  entent  to  maken  and 
appareille  his  mete.  The  fifth  is,  for  to  ete  gredily.  Thise 
ben  the  five  fingers  of  the  devils  bond,  by  which  he  draweth 
folk  to  the  sinne. 

Remedium  Gvlce. 

Ayenst  glotonie  the  remedie  is  abstinence,  as  sayth 
Galien  :3  but  that  I  holde  not  meritorie,  if  he  do  it  only  for 
the  hele  of  his  body.  Seint  Augustine  wol  that  abstinence 
be  don  for  vertue,  and  with  patience.  Abstinence  (sayth 
he)  is  litel  worth,  but  if  a  man  have  good  will  therto,  and 
but  it  be  enforced  by  patience  and  charitee,  and  that  men 
don  it  for  Goddes  sake,  and  in  hope  to  have  the  blisse  in 
heven. 

The  felawes  of  abstinence  ben  attemperance,  that  holdeth 
the  mene  in  alle  thinges ;  also  shame,  that  escheweth  all 
dishonestee;  suffisance,  that  seketh  no  riche  metes  ne 
drinkes,  ne  doth  no  force  of  non  outrageous  appareilling  of 
mete ;  mesure  also,  that  restreineth  by  reson  the  unmesur- 

1  Accustomed. 
3  l.e„  over  delicacy,  a  taste  for  rarities  and  dainty  decoration  of  the 
table.  »  Galen. 


B6i  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

able  appetit  ot  eting:  sobernesse  also,  that  restreineth  the 
outrage  of  drinke ;  sparing  also,  that  restreineth  the  delicat 
ese,  to  sit  long  at  mete,  wherfore  som  folk  standen  of  hir 
owen  will  whan  they  ete,  because  they  wol  ete  at  less© 
leiser. 

De  LuxuriA, 

After  glotonie  cometh  lecherie,  for  thise  two  sinnes  ben 
bo  nigh  cosins,  that  oft  time  they  wol  not  depart.  God 
wote  this  sinne  is  ful  displesant  to  God,  for  he  said  himself; 
Do  no  lecherie.  And  therfore  he  putteth  gret  peine  ayenst 
this  sinne.  For  in  the  old  lawe,  if  a  woman  thrall1  were 
taken  in  this  sinne,  she  shuld  be  beten  with  staves  to  the 
deth  :  and  if  she  were  a  gentilwoman,  she  shuld  be  slain 
with  stones :  and  if  she  were  a  bishoppes  doughter,  she 
shuld  be  brent  by  Goddes  commandement.  Moreover,  for 
the  sinne  of  lecherie  God  dreint  all  the  world,  and  after 
that  he  brent  five  citees  with  thonder  and  lightning,  and 
sanke  hem  doun  into  hell. 

Now  let  us  speke  than  of  the  said  stinking  sinne  of 
lecherie,  that  men  clepen  avoutrie,2  that  is  of  wedded  folk, 
that  is  to  say,  if  that  on  of  hem  be  wedded,  or  elles  both. 
Seint  John  sayth,  That  avouterers  shul  ben  in  helle  in  a 
stacke  brenning  of  fire  and  of  brimstone,  in  fire  for  hir 
lecherie,  in  brimstone  for  the  stenche  of  hir  ordure.  Certes 
the  breking  of  this  sacrament  is  an  horrible  thing :  it  was 
made  of  God  himself  in  Paradis,  and  confermed  by  Jesu 
Crist,  as  witnesseth  Seint  Mathew  in  the  Gospel :  a  man 
shal  let  fader  and  moder,  and  take  him  to  his  wif,  and 
they  shal  be  two  in  on  flesh.  This  sacrament  betokeneth 
the  knitting  together  of  Crist  and  holy  chirche.  And  not 
only  that  God  forbade  avoutrie  in  dede,  but  also  he  com- 
manded, that  thou  shuldest  not  coveit  thy  neighboures 
wif  In  this  heste  (sayth  Seint  Augustine)  is  forboden  all 
maner  coveitise  to  do  lecherie.  Lo,  what  sayth  Seint 
Mathew  in  the  Gospel,  That  who  so  seeth  a  woman,  to 
coveitise  of  his  lust,  he  hath  don  lecherie  with  hire  in  his 
herte.  Here  may  ye  see,  that  not  only  the  dede  of  this 
sin  is  forboden,  but  eke  the  desire  to  don  that  sinne. 
This  cursed  sinne  annoyeth  grevously  hem  that  it  haunt : 
and  first  to  the  soule,  for  he  oblige th  it  to  sinne  and  to 
peine  of   deth,  which  is  perdurable ;   and  to  the  body 

»  Slave  2  Adultery. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  665 

annoyeth  it  grevously  also,  for  it  drieth  him  and  wasteth, 
and  shout1  him,  and  of  his  blood  he  maketh  sacrifice  to  the 
fend  of  helle :  it  wasteth  eke  his  catel  and  his  substance. 
And  certes,  if  it  be  a  foule  thing  a  man  to  waste  his  catel 
on  women,  yet  is  it  a  fouler  thing,  whan  that  for  swiche 
ordure  women  dispenden  upon  men  hir  catel  and  hir  sub- 
stance. This  sinne,  as  sayth  the  Prophet,  bereveth  man 
and  woman  hir  good  fame  and  all  hir  honour,  and  it  is  ful 
plesant  to  the  devil:  for  therby  winneth  he  the  moste 
partie  of  this  wretched  world.  And  right  as  a  marchant 
deliteth  him  most  in  that  chaffare2  which  he  hath  most 
a  vantage  and  profite  of,  right  so  deliteth  the  feud  in  this 
ordure. 

This  is  that  other  hond  of  the  devil,  with  five  fingers,  to 
cacche  the  peple  to  his  vilanie.  The  first  fingre  is  the 
foole  loking  of  the  foole  woman  and  of  the  foole  man,  that 
sleth  right  as  the  Basilicok3  sleth  folk  by  venime  of  his 
sight :  for  the  coveitise  of  the  eyen  foloweth  the  coveitise 
of  the  herte.  The  second  fingre  is  the  vilains  touching  in 
wicked  maner.  And  therfore  sayth  Salomon,  that  who  so 
toucheth  and  handleth  a  woman,  he  fareth  as  the  man 
that  handleth  the  scorpion,  which  stingeth  and  sodenly 
sleth  thurgh  his  enveniming ;  or  as  who  so  that  toucheth 
warme  pitch  it  shendeth  his  fingers.  The  thridde  is  foule 
wordes,  which  fareth  like  fire,  which  right  anon  brenneth 
the  herte.  The  fourth  finger  is  kissing:  and  trewely  he 
were  a  gret  foole  that  wold  kisse  the  mouthe  of  a  brenning 
oven  or  of  a  fourneis ;  and  more  fooles  ben  they  that 
kissen  in  vilainie,  for  that  mouth  is  the  mouth  of  helle; 
and  namely  thise  olde  dotarde  holours,  which  wol  kisse, 
and  flicker,  and  besie  hemself,  though  they  may  nought 
do.  Certes  they  ben  like  to  houndes :  for  an  hound  whan 
he  cometh  by  the  roser,  or  by  other  bushes,  though  so  be 
that  he  may  not  pisse,  yet  wol  he  heve  up  his  leg  and  make 
a  contenance  to  pisse.  And  for  that  many  man  weneth 
that  he  may  not  sinne  for  no  likerousnesse  that  he  doth 
with  his  wif,  trewely  that  opinion  is  false :  Godwoteaman 
may  slee  himself  with  his  owen  knif,  and  make  himself 
dronken  of  his  owen  tonne.  Certes  be  it  wif,  be  it  childe, 
or  any  worldly  thing,  that  he  loveth  before  God,  it  is  his 
man  met,4  and  he  is  an  idolastre.  A  man  shuld  love  his  wif 

1  Bnineth.  *  Merchandize. 

*  Basilisk.  *  Idol. 

48 


566  THE   CANTERBURY   TALES. 

by  discretion,  patiently  and  attemprely,  and  than  is  she  as 
though  it  were  his  suster.  The  fifth  fingre  of  the  divels 
hond,  is  the  stinking  dede  of  lecherie.  Trewely  the  five 
fingers  of  glotonie  the  fend  putteth  in  the  wombe  of  a 
man :  and  with  his  five  fingers  of  lecherie  he  gripeth  him 
by  the  reines,  for  to  throwe  him  into  the  fourneis  of  helle, 
ther  as  they  shul  have  the  fire  and  the  wormes  that  ever 
shul  lasten,  and  weping  and  wayling,  and  sharpe  hunger 
and  thurst,  and  grislinesse  of  divels,  whiche  shul  all-to-trede 
hem  withouten  respite  and  withouten  ende.  Of  lecherie,  as 
I  sayd,  sourden  and  springen  divers  spices :  as  fornication, 
that  is  betwene  man  and  woman  which  ben  not  maried, 
and  is  dedly  sinne,  and  ayenst  nature.  All  that  is  enemy 
and  destruction  to  nature,  is  ayenst  nature.  Parfay  the 
reson  of  a  man  eke  telleth  him  wel  that  it  is  dedly  sinne  ; 
for  as  moche  as  God  forbad  lecherie.  And  Seint  Poule 
yeveth  hem  the  regne,  that  n'is  dewe  to  no  wight  but  to 
hem  that  don  dedely  sinne.  Another  sinne  of  lecherie  is, 
to  bereven  a  maid  of  hire  maidenhed,  for  he  that  so  doth, 
certes  he  casteth  a  mayden  out  of  the  highest  degree  that 
is  in  this  present  lif,  and  bereveth  hire  thilke  precious 
fruit  that  the  book  clepeth  the  hundreth  fruit.  I  ne  can 
say  it  non  otherwise  in  English,  but  in  Latine  it  hight 
Centesimus  fructus.  Certes  he  that  so  doth,  is  the  cause 
of  many  damages  and  vilanies,  mo  than  any  man  can 
reken :  right  as  he  somtime  is  cause  of  all  dammages  that 
bestes  do  in  the  feld,  that  breketh  the  hedge  of  the 
closure,  thurgh  which  he  destroyeth  that  may  not  be 
restored :  for  certes  no  more  may  maidenhed  be  restored, 
than  an  arme,  that  is  smitten  fro  the  body,  may  returne 
ayen1  and  wexe:  she  may  have  mercy,  this  wote  I  wel, 
if  that  she  have  will  to  do  penitence,  but  never  shal 
it  be  but  that  she  is  corrupte.  And  all  be  it  so  that  I 
have  spoke  somwhat  of  avoutrie,  it  is  good  to  she  we  the 
periles  that  longen  to  avoutrie,  for  to  eschewe  that  foule 
sinne.  Avoutrie,  in  Latine,  is  for  to  saye,  approching  of 
another  mannes  bedde,  thurgh  whiche  tho,  that  somtime 
were  on2  fleshe,  abandone  hir  bodies  to  other  persons.  Of 
this  sinne,  as  sayth  the  wise  man,  folow  many  harmes: 
firste  breking  of  feith ;  and  certes  feith  is  the  key  of  Cris- 
tendom,  and  whan  that  key  is  broken  and  lorne,  sothly 
Cristendom  is  lorne,  and  stont3  vaine  and  without  fruit. 

»  Again.  2  One.  3  S'andeta. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  507 

This  sinne  also  is  theft,  for  theft  generally  is  to  reve1  a 
wight  his  thinges  ayenst  his  will.  Certes,  this  is  the 
foulest  theft  that  may  be,  whan  that  a  woman  steleth  hire 
body  from  hire  husbond,  and  yeveth  it  to  hire  holour  to 
defoule  it:  and  steleth  hire  soule  fro  Crist,  and  yeveth  it 
to  the  devil :  this  is  a  fouler  thefte  than  for  to  breke  a 
chirche  and  stele  away  the  chalice,  for  thise  avouterers 
breken  the  temple  of  God  spirituelly,  and  stelen  the  vessell 
of  grace ;  that  is  the  body  and  the  soule:  for  which  Criste 
shal  destroy  hem,  as  sayth  Seint  Poule.  Sothly  of  this 
theft  douted  gretly  Joseph,  whan  that  his  Lordes  wif 
prayed  him  of  vilainie,  whan  he  sayde :  Lo,  my  Lady,  how 
my  Lord  hath  take  to  me  under  my  warde2  all  that  he 
hath  in  this  world,  ne  nothing  is  out  of  my  power,  but 
only  ye  that  ben  his  wif:  and  how  shuld  I  than  do  this 
wickednesse,  and  sinne  so  horribly  ayenst  God,  and  ayenst 
my  Lord?  God  it  forbede.  Alas!  all  to  litel  is  swiche 
trouth  now  yfounde.  The  thridde  harme  is  the  filth, 
thurgh  which  they  breke  the  commandement  of  God,  and 
defoule  the  auter  of  matrimonies,  that  is  Crist.  For 
certes,  in  so  moche  as  the  sacrament  of  manage  is  so  noble 
and  so  digne,  so  moche  is  it  the  greter  sinne  for  to  breke 
it :  for  God  made  mariage  in  Paradis  in  the  estate  of  inno- 
cencie,  to  multiplie  mankinde  to  the  service  of  God,  and 
therfore  is  the  breking  therof  the  more  grevous,  of  which 
breking  come  false  heires  oft  time,  that  wrongfully  occu- 
pien  folkes  heritages:  and  therfore  wol  Crist  put  hem 
out  of  the  regne  of  heven,  that  is  heritage  to  good  folk. 
Of  this  breking  cometh  eke  oft  time,  that  folk  unware 
wedde  or  sinne  with  hir  owen  kinrede :  and  namely  thise 
harlottes,  that  haunten  bordelles  of  thise  foule  women,  that 
may  be  likened  to  a  commune  gong,3  wheras  men  purge 
hir  ordure.  What  .say  we  also  of  putours,4  that  live 
by  the  horrible  sinne  of  puterie,  and  constreine  women 
to  yelde  hem  a  certain  rent  of  hir  bodily  puterie,  ye, 
somtime  his  owen  wif  or  his  childe,  as  don  thise  baudes  ? 
certes,  thise  ben  cursed  sinnes.  Understond  also,  that 
avoutrie  is  set  in  the  ten  commandements  betwene  theft 
and  manslaughter,  for  it  is  the  gretest  theft  that  may 
be,  for  it  is  theft  of  body  and  of  soule,  and  it  is  like 
to  homicide,  for  it   kerveth5  atwo   and   breketh   atwo 

l  Deprive  of.  2  Placed  under  my  care. 

3  A  jakes.  •  Whoremongers.  *  Cutteth. 


568  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

hem  that  first  were  made  on  flesh.  And  therfore  by 
the  old  lawe  of  God  they  shuld  be  slaine,  but  nathe- 
lesse,  by  the  lawe  of  Jesu  Crist,  that  is  the  lawe  of 
pitee,  whan  he  sayd  to  the  woman  that  was  found  in 
avoutrie,  and  shuld  have  be  slain  with  stones,  after  the  will 
of  the  Jewes,  as  was  hir  lawe ;  Go,  sayd  Jesu  Crist,  and 
have  no  more  will  to  do  sinne ;  sothly,  the  vengeance  of 
avoutrie  is  awarded  to  the  peine  of  helle,  but  if  so  be  that 
it  be  discombered  by  penitence.  Yet  ben  ther  mo  spices 
of  this  cursed  sinne,  as  whan  that  on  of  hem  is  religious, 
or  elles  both,  or  of  folk  that  ben  entred  into  ordre,  as  sub- 
deken,  deken,  or  preest,  or  hospitalers :  and  ever  the  higher 
that  he  is  in  ordre,  the  greter  is  the  sinne.  The  thinges 
that  gretly  agrege1  hir  sinne,  is  the  breking  of  hir  avow  of 
chastitee,  whan  they  received  the  ordre:  and  moreover 
soth  is,  that  holy  ordre  is  chefe  of  all  the  tresorie  of  God, 
and  is  a  special  signe  and  marke  of  chastitee,  to  shew  that 
they  ben  joined  to  chastitee,  which  is  the  moste  precious 
life  that  is:  and  thise  ordered2  folk  ben  specially  titled  to 
God,  and  of  the  special  meinie  of  God :  for  which,  whan 
they  don  dedly  sinne,  they  ben  the  special  traitours  of 
God  and  of  his  peple,  for  they  live  by  the  peple  to  praye 
for  the  peple,  and  whiles  they  ben  swiche  traitours  hir 
prayeres  availe  not  to  the  peple.  Preestes  ben  as  angels, 
as  by  the  mysterie  of  hir  dignitee :  but  forsoth  Seint  Poule 
saith,  That  Sathanas  transfourmeth  him  in  an  angel  of 
light.  Sothly,  the  preest  that  haunteth  dedly  sinne,  he 
may  be  likened  to  an  angel  of  derkenesse,  transfourmed 
into  an  angel  of  light:  he  semeth  an  angel  of  light,  but  for 
soth  he  is  an  angel  of  derkenesse.  Swiche  preestes  be  the 
sones  of  Hely,  as  is  shewed  in  the  book  of  Kinges,  that  they 
were  the  sones  of  Belial,  that  is,  the  divel.  Belial  is  to  say, 
withouten  juge,  and  so  faren  they ;  hem  thinketh  that  they 
be  free,  and  have  no  juge,  no  more  than  hath  a  free  boll, 
that  taketh  which  cow  that  him  liketh  in  the  toun.  So 
faren  they  by  women ;  for  right  as  on  free  boll  is  ynoughforall 
a  toun,  right  s«  is  a  wicked  preest  corruption  ynough  for  all 
a  parish,  or  for  all  a  countree :  thise  preestes,  as  sayth  the 
book,  ne  cannot  minister  the  mysterie  of  preesthood  to  the 
peple,  ne  they  knowe  not  God,  ne  they  hold  hem  not 
apaied,3  as  saith  the  book,  of  sodden  flesh  that  was  to  hem 
otfred,  but  they  take  by  force  the  flesh  that  is  raw.    Certes, 

1  Increase.  3  In  orders,  ordained,  3  Satisfied. 


TIIE   PERSONES  TALE.  569 

right  so  thise  shrewes  ne  hold  hem  not  apaied  of  rosted 
flesh  and  sodden,  with  which  the  peple  ieden  hem  in  gret 
reverence,  but  they  wol  have  raw  flesh  as  iolkes  wives  and 
hir  doughters:  and  certes,  thise  women  that  consenten  to 
hir  harlotrie,  don  gret  wrong  to  Crist  and  to  holy  Chirche, 
and  to  all  Halowes,  and  to  all  Soules,  for  they  bereven  all 
thise  hem  that  shuld  worship  Crist  and  holy  Chirche,  and 
pray  for  Cristen  soules:  and  therfore  han  swiche  preestes, 
and  hir  lemmans  also  that  consenten  to  hir  lecherie,  the 
malison  of  the  court  Cristen,  til  they  come  to  amendement. 
The  thridde  spice  of  avoutrie  is  somtime  betwix  a  man  and 
his  wif,  and  that  is,  whan  they  take  no  regard  in  hir 
assembling  but  only  to  hir  fleshly  delit,  as  saith  Seint 
Jerome,  and  ne  recken  of  nothing  but  that  they  ben 
assembled  because  they  ben  maried ;  all  is  good  ynough, 
as  thinketh  to  hem.  But  in  swiche  folk  hath  the  divel 
power,  as  said  the  angel  Raphael  to  Tobie,  for  in  hir 
assembling,  they  putten  Jesu  Crist  out  of  hir  herte,  and 
yeven  hemself  to  all  ordure.  The  fourth  spice  is  of  hem 
that  assemble  with  hir  kinrede,  or  with  hem  that  ben  of 
on  affinitee,  or  elles  with  hem  with  which  hir  fathers  or  hir 
kinred  have  deled  in  the  sinne  of  lecherie:  this  sinne 
maketh  hem  like  to  houndes,  that  taken  no  kepe  of  kin- 
rede. And  certes,  parentele1  is  in  two  maners:  eyther 
gostly  or  fleshly :  gostly,  is  for  to  delen  with  hir  godsibbes:2 
for  right  so  as  he  that  engendreth  a  child,  is  nis  fleshly 
father,  right  so  is  his  godfather  his  father  spirituel :  for 
which  a  woman  may  in  no  lesse  sinne  assemble  with  hire 
godsib,  than  with  hir  owen  fleshly  broder.  The  fifthe 
spice  is  that  abhominable  sinne,  of  which  abhominable 
sinne  no  man  unneth  ought  to  speke  ne  write,  natheles  it 
is  openly  rehersed  in  holy  writ.  This  cursednesse  don  men 
and  women  in  diverse  entent  and  in  diverse  maner :  but 
though  that  holy  writ  speke  of  horrible  sinne,  certes  holy 
writ  may  not  be  defouled,  no  more  than  the  sonne  tbat 
shineth  on  the  myxene.3  Another  sinne  apperteineth  to 
lecherie,  that  cometh  in  sleping,  and  this  sinne  cometh  often 
to  hem  that  ben  maidens,  and  eke  to  hem  that  ben  corrupt ; 
and  this  sinne  men  call  pollution,  that  cometh  of  foure 
maners ;  somtime  it  cometh  of  languishing  of  the  body,  for 
the  humours  ben  to  ranke  and  haboundant  in  the  body  of 

*  Parentage.  *  Gossip. «'.«.,  godfather  or  mother. 

•  Dunghill. 

48* 


570  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

man ;  somtime  of  infirmitee,  for  feblenesse  of  the  vertue 
retentit,as  phisike  maketh  mention;  somtime  of  surfet  of 
mete  and  drinke ;  and  somtime  of  vilains  thoughtes  that 
ben  enclosed  in  mannes  minde  whan  he  goth  to  slepe, 
which  may  not  be  withouten  sinne ;  for  whiche  men  must 
kepe  hem  wisely,  or  elles  may  they  sinne  ful  grevously. 

Remedium  Luxuries. 

Now  cometh  the  remedy  ayenst  lecherie,  and  that  is 
generally  chastitee  and  continence,  that  restreineth  all 
disordinate  mevings  that  comen  of  fleshly  talents:  and 
ever  the  greter  merite  shal  he  have  that  most  restreineth 
the  wicked  enchaufing  or  ardure  of  this  sinne  ;  and  this  is 
in  two  maners :  that  is  to  say,  chastitee  in  mariage,  and 
chastitee  in  widewhood.  Now  shalt  thou  understonde,  that 
matrimony  is  leful  assembling  of  man  and  woman,  that 
receiven  by  vertue  of  this  sacrement  the  bonde,  thurgh 
whiche  they  may  not  be  departed1  in  all  hir  lif,  that  is  to 
say,  while  that  they  live  bothe.  This,  as  saith  the  book, 
is  a  ful  gret  sacrement;  God  made  it  (as  I  have  said) 
in  paradis,  and  wold  himself  be  borne  in  mariage :  and  for 
to  halowe  mariage  he  was  at  a  wedding,  wheras2  he 
tourned  water  into  wine,  whiche  was  the  first  miracle 
that  he  wrought  in  erthe  before  his  disciples.  The  trewe 
effect  of  mariage  clenseth  fornication,  and  replenisheth 
holy  chirche  of  good  lignage,  for  that  is  the  ende  of  ma- 
riage, and  chaungeth  dedly  sinne  into  venial  sinne  betwene 
hem  that  ben  wedded,  and  maketh  the  hertes  all  on  of  hem 
that  ben  ywedded,  as  wel  as  the  bodies.  This  is  veray 
mariage  that  was  established  by  God,  er  that  sinne  began, 
whan  naturel  lawe  was  in  his  right  point  in  paradis ;  and 
it  was  ordeined,  that  o  man  shuld  have  but  o  woman,  and 
o  woman  but  o  man,  as  sayth  Seint  Augustine,  by  many 
resons. 

First,for  mariage  is  figured  betwix  Cristand  holy  chirche ; 
and  another  is,  for  a  man  is  hed  of  the  woman ;  (algate  by 
ordinance  it  shuld  be  so ;)  for  if  a  woman  had  mo  men  than 
on,  than  shuld  she  have  mo  hedes  than  on,  and  that  were 
an  horrible  thing  before  God ;  and  also  a  woman  mighte 
not  plese  many  folk  at  ones :  and  also  ther  shuld  never  be 
pees  ne  rest  among  hem,  for  everich  of  hem  wold  axe  hia 

1  Separated.  3  At  which. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  571 

owen  right.  And  furthermore,  no  man  shnld  knowe  his 
owen  engendrure,  ne  who  shuld  have  his  heritage,  and  the 
woman  shuld  be  the  lesse  beloved  for  the  time  that  she  were 
conjunct  to  many  men. 

Now  cometh  how  that  a  man  shuld  bere  him  with  his 
wif,  and  namely  in  two  thinges,  that  is  to  say,  in  suffrance 
and  in  reverence,  and  this  shewed  Crist  whan  he  firste  made 
woman.  For  he  ne  made  hire  of  the  hed  of  Adam,  for  she 
shuld  not  claime  to  gret  lordshippe ;  for  ther  as  the  woman 
hath  the  maistrie,  she  maketh  to  moche  disarray :  ther  nede 
non  ensamples  of  this,  the  experience  that  we  have  day  by 
day  ought  ynough  suffice.  Also  certes,  God  ne  made  not 
woman  of  the  foot  of  Adam,  for  she  shuld  not  be  holden 
to  lowe,  for  she  cannot  patiently  suffer :  but  God  made 
woman  of  the  rib  of  Adam,  for  woman  shuld  be  felaw  unto 
man.  Man  shuld  bere  him  to  his  wif  in  feith,  in  trouth, 
and  in  love ;  as  sayth  Seint  Poule,  that  a  man  shuld  love 
his  wif,  as  Crist  loved  holy  chirche,  that  loved  it  so  wel 
that  he  died  for  it:  so  shuld  a  man  for  his  wif,  if  it  were 
nede. 

Now  how  that  a  woman  shuld  be  subget  to  hire  husbond, 
that  telleth  Seint  Peter ;  first  in  obedience.  And,  eke  as 
sayth  the  decree,  a  woman  that  is  a  wif,  as  long  as  she  is  a 
wif,  she  hath  non  auctoritee  to  swere  ne  bere  witnesse,  with- 
out leve  of  hire  husbonde,  that  is  hire  lord ;  algate  he  shuld 
be  so  by  reson.  She  shuld  also  serve  him  in  all  honestee, 
and  ben  attempre  of  hire  array.  I  wete  wel  that  they 
shuld  set  hir  entent  to  plese  hir  husbonds,  but  not  by 
queintise  of  hir  array.  Seint  Jerom  sayth :  wives  that  ben 
appareilled  in  silke  and  precious  purple,  ne  mow  not  cloth 
hem  in  Jesu  Crist.  Seint  Gregorie  sayth  also :  that  no 
wight  seketh  precious  array,  but  only  for  vain  glorie  to  be 
honoured  the  more  of  the  peple.  It  is  a  gret  folie,  a  woman 
to  have  a  faire  array  outward,  and  hireself  to  be  foule 
inward.  A  wif  shuld  also  be  mesurable  in  loking,  in 
bering,  and  in  laughing,  and  discrete  in  all  hire  wordes 
and  hire  dedes,  and  above  all  worldly  thinges,  she  shnlde 
love  hire  husbonde  with  all  hire  herte,  and  to  him  be  trewe 
of  hire  body :  so  shuld  every  husbond  eke  be  trewe  to  his 
wif:  for  sith  that  all  the  body  is  the  husbondes,  so  shuld 
hire  herte  be  also,  or  elles  ther  is  betwix  hem  two,  as  in 
that,  no  parfit  manage.  Than  shul  men  understond,  that 
for  three  thinges  a  man  and  his  wif  fleshly  may  assemble. 
The  first  is,  for  the  entent  of  engendrure  of  children,  to  the 


572  TIIE   CANTERBURY   TALES. 

service  of  God,  for  certes  that  is  the  cause  final  of  matri- 
monie.  Another  cause  is,  to  yelde  eche  of  hem  to  other 
the  dettes  of  hir  bodies :  for  neyther  of  hem  hath  power  of 
his  owen  bodie.  The  thridde  is,  for  to  eschew  leeheiue  and 
vilanie.  The  fourth  is  for  soth  dedly  sinne.  As  to  the 
first,  it  is  meritorie :  the  second  also,  for,  as  sayth  the  decree, 
she  hath  merite  of  chastitee,  that  yeldeth  to  hire  husbond 
the  dette  of  hire  body,  ye  though  it  be  ayenst  hire  liking, 
and  the  lust  of  hire  herte.  The  thridde  maner  is  venial 
sinne ;  trewely,  scarsely  may  any  of  thise  be  without  venial 
sinne,  for  the  corruption  and  for  the  delit  therof.  The 
fourth  maner  is  for  to  understond,  if  they  assemble  only  for 
amourous  love,  and  for  non  of  the  foresaid  causes,  but  for 
to  accomplish  hir  brenning  delit,  they  recke  not  how  oft, 
sothly  it  is  dedly  sinne :  and  yet,  with  sorwe,  som  folk  wol 
peine  hem  more  to  do,  than  to  hir  appetit  sufficeth. 

The  second  maner  of  chastitee  is  for  to  be  a  clene  widew, 
and  eschue  the  embracing  of  a  man,  and  desire  the  em- 
bracing of  Jesu  Crist.  Thise  ben  tho  that  have  ben  wives, 
and  have  forgon  hir  husbondes,  and  eke  women  that  have 
don  lecherie,  and  ben  relered  by  penance.  And  certes,  if 
that  a  wif  coud  kepe  hire  all  chast,  by  licence  of  hire  hus- 
bond, so  that  she  yave  no  cause  ne  non  occasion  that  he 
agilted,  it  were  to  hire  a  gret  merite.  This  maner  of 
women,  that  observen  chastitee,  must  be  clene  in  herte  as 
wel  as  in  body,  and  in  thought,  and  mesurable  in  clothing 
and  in  contenance,  abstinent  in  eting  and  drinking,  in 
speking,  and  in  dede,  and  than  is  she  the  vessel  or  the 
boiste1  of  the  blessed  Magdeleine,  that  fulfilleth  holy 
chirche  of  good  odour.  The  thridde  maner  of  chastitee  is 
virginitee,  and  it  behoveth  that  she  be  holy  in  herte,  and 
clene  of  body,  than  is  she  the  spouse  of  Jesu  Crist,  and  she 
is  the  lif  of  angels:  she  is  the  preising  of  this  world,  and 
she  is  as  thise  martirs,in  egalitee:2  she  hath  in  hire,  that 
tonge  may  not  telle,  ne  herte  thinke.  Virginitee  bare  our 
Lord  Jesu  Crist,  and  virgin  was  himself. 

Another  remedie  against  lecherie  is  specially  to  withdraw 
swiche  thinges,  as  yeven  occasion  to  that  vilanie :  as  ese, 
eting,  and  drinking;  for  certes,  whan  the  pot  boileth 
strongly,  the  best  remedie  is  to  withdraw  the  fire.  Sleping 
long  in  gret  quiet  is  also  a  gret  nourice  to  lecherie. 

Another  remedie  ayeust  lecherie  is,  that  a  man  or  a 

1  Box.  s  Equality,  station. 


THE  PEBSONES  TALE.  573 

woman  eschewe  the  compagnie  of  hem,  by  which  he  douteth 
to  be  tempted :  for  all  be  it  so  that  the  dede  be  withstonden, 
yet  is  ther  gret  temptation.  Sothly  a  white  wall,  although 
it  ne  brenne  not  fully  with  sticking  of  a  candle,  yet  is  the 
wall  black  of  the  leyte.  Ful  oft  time  I  rede,  that  no  man 
trust  in  his  owen  perfection,  but  he  be  stronger  than  Samp- 
son, or  holier  than  David,  or  wiser  than  Salomon. 

Now  after  that  I  have  declared  you  as  I  can  of  the 
seven  dedly  sinnes,  and  som  of  hir  braunches,  and  the 
remedies,  sothly,  if  I  coude,  I  wold  tell  you  the  ten  com- 
mandements,  but  so  high  doctrine  I  lete  to  divines.1 
Natheles,  I  hope  to  God  they  ben  touched  in  this  tretise 
everioh  of  hem  alle. 

Now  for  as  moche  as  the  second  part  of  penitence  stont 
in  confession  of  mouth,  as  I  began  in  the  first  chapitre,  I 
say  Seint  Augustine  saith :  Sinne  is  every  word  and  every 
dede,  and  all  that  men  coveiten  ayenst  the  law  of  Jesu 
Crist ;  and  this  is  for  to  sinne,  in  herte,  in  mouth,  and  in 
dede,  by  the  five  wittes,  which  ben  sight,  hering,  smelling, 
tasting  or  savouring,  and  feling.  Now  is  it  g«od  to  under- 
stond  the  circumstances,  that  agregen2  moche  every  sinne. 
Thou  shalt  consider  what  thou  art  that  dost  the  sinne, 
whether  thou  be  male  or  female,  yonge  or  olde,  gentil  or 
thrall,  free  or  servant,  hole  or  sike,  wedded  or  single,  or- 
dered or  unordered,  wise  or  foole,  clerk  or  seculer ;  if  she 
be  of  thy  kinred,  bodily  or  gostly,  or  non ;  if  any  of  thy 
kinred  have  sinned  with  hire  or  no,  and  many  mo  thinges. 

Another  circumstaunce  is  this,  whether  it  be  don  in 
fornication,  or  in  advoutrie,  or  no,  in  maner  of  homicide  or 
non,  a  horrible  gret  sinne  or  smal,  and  how  long  thou  hast 
continued  in  sinne.   The  thridde  circumstance  is  the  place, 

1  See  before,  vs.  175GC-71.  ■  The  exposition  of  this — I  betake  to  the 
maisters  of  Theologie."  The  secular  clergy,  in  the  time  of  Chaucer, 
being  generally  very  ignorant,  it  would  not  have  been  in  character,  I 
suppose,  to  represent  the  Perjone  as  a  deep  divine,  though  a  very  pious, 
worthy  Priest.  The  Frere,  whose  brethren  had  the  largest  share  of  the 
learning  which  was  then  in  fashion,  is  made  to  speak  with  great  con- 
tempt of  the  l'arochiul  Pastors,  ver.  7500. 

"  This  every  letoed  Vicar  and  Person 
Can  say,  &c." 
And  yet  in  the  Person's  Character,  ver.  402,  we  are  told,  that — 

"  He  was  also  a  lertted  man,  a  clerk." 
It  may  be  doubted  therefore,  whether  in  these  passages  Chaucer  may 
not  speak  for  himself,  forgetting  or  neglecting  the  character  of  the  real 
speaker. — Tyrwhitt.  a  Increase. 


574  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

ther  thou  hast  don  sinne,  whether  in  other  mennes  houses, 
or  in  thin  owen,  in  feld,  in  chirche,  or  in  chirchhawe,  in 
chirche  dedicate,  or  non.  For  if  the  chirche  be  halowed, 
and  man  or  woman  spille1  his  kinde  within  that  place,  by 
way  of  sinne  or  by  wicked  temptation,  the  chirche  were 
enterdited2  til  it  were  reconciled  by  the  Bishop ;  and  if  it 
were  a  precst  that  did  swiche  vilanie,  the  terme  of  all  his 
lif  he  shuld  no  more  sing  Masse :  and  if  he  did,  he  shuld 
do  dedly  sinne,  at  every  time  that  he  so  song  Masse. 
The  fourth  circumstance  is,  by  whiche  mediatours,  as  by 
messagers,  or  for  enticement,  or  for  consentment,  to  bere 
compagnie  with  felawship;  for  many  a  wretcbe,for  to  bere 
felawship,  wol  go  to  the  divel  of  helle.  Wherfore,  they 
that  eggen3  or  consenten  to  the  sinne,  ben  partners  of  the 
sinne,  and  of  the  dampnation  of  the  sinner.  The  fifth  cir- 
cumstance is,  how  many  times  that  he  hath  sinned,  if  it  be 
in  his  minde,  and  how  oft  he  hath  fallen.  For  he  that  oft 
falleth  in  sinne,  he  despiseth  the  mercy  of  God,  and  en- 
creseth  his  sinne,  and  is  unkind  to  Crist,  and  he  waxeth 
the  more  feble  to  withstand  sinne,  and  sinneth  the  more 
lightly,  and  the  later  ariseth,  and  is  more  slow  to  shrive 
him,  and  namely4  to  him  that  hath  ben  his  confessour. 
For  which  that  folk,  whan  they  fall  ayen  to  hir  old  folies, 
either  they  forleten  hir  old  confessour  al  utterly,  or  elles 
they  departen5  hir  shrift  in  divers  places:  but  sothly 
swiche  departed  shrift  deserveth  no  mercie  of  God  for  hir 
sinnes.  The  sixte  circumstance  is,  why  that  a  man  sinneth, 
as  by  what  temptation;  and  if  himself  procure  thilke 
temptation,  or  by  exciting  of  other  folk ;  or  if  he  sinne  with 
a  woman  by  force  or  by  hire  owen  assent ;  or  if  the  woman 
maugre  hire  hed  have  ben  enforced  or  non,  this  shal  she 
tell,  and  wheder  it  were  for  covetise  or  poverte,  and  if  it 
were  by  hire  procuring  or  non,  and  swiche  other  thinges. 
The  seventh  circumstance  is,  in  what  maner  he  hath  don 
his  sinne,  or  how  that  she  hath  suffered  that  folk  have  don 
to  hire.  And  the  same  shal  the  man  tell  plainly,  with  all 
the  circumstances,  and  wheder  he  hath  sinned  withcommun 
bordel  women  or  non,  or  don  his  sinne  in  holy  times  or 
non,  in  fasting  times  or  non,  or  before  his  shrift,  or  after  his 
later  shrift,  and  hath  peraventure  broken  therby  his  pe- 
nance enjoined,  by  whos  helpe  or  whos  conseil,  by  sorcerie 

1  Rain.  *  Interdicted.  3  Egg  on,  encourage. 

*  More  especially.  •  Divide. 


THE   PERSONES  TALE.  575 

or  crafte,  all  must  be  told.  All  thise  thinges,  after  that 
they  ben  gret  or  smale,  engreggen1  the  conscience  of  man 
or  woman.  And  eke  the  preest  that  is  thy  juge,  may  the 
better  be  avised  of  his  jugeiuent  in  yeving  of  penance,  and 
that  shal  be  after  thy  contrition.  For  understond  wel, 
that  after  the  time  that  a  man  hath  defouled  his  baptisme 
by  sinne,  if  he  wol  come  to  salvation,  ther  is  non  other  way 
but  by  penance,  and  shrifte,  and  satisfaction ;  and  namely 
by  tho  two,  if  ther  be  a  confessour  to  whom  he  may  shrive 
him,  and  that  he  first  be  veray  contrite  and  repentant,  and 
the  thridde  if  he  have  lif  to  performe  it. 

Than  shal  a  man  loke  and  consider,  that  if  he  wol  make 
a  trewe  and  a  profitable  confession,  ther  must  be  foure 
conditions.  First  it  must  be  in  sorowful  bitternesse  of 
herte,  as  sayth  the  King  Ezechiel  to  God ;  I  wol  remem- 
ber all  the  yeres  of  my  lif  in  the  bitternesse  of  my  herte. 
This  condition  of  bitternesse  hath  five  signes ;  The  first  is, 
that  confession  must  be  shamefast,  not  for  to  coveren  ne 
hide  his  sinne,  but  for  he  hath  agilted  his  God  and  de- 
fouled  his  soule.  A  nd  hereof  sayth  Seint  Augustin :  the 
herte  travaileth  for  shame  of  his  sinne,  and  for  he  hath 
gret  shamfastnesse  he  is  digne  to  have  gret  mercie  of  God. 
Swiche  was  the  confession  of  the  Publican,  that  wold  not 
heve  up  his  eyen  to  heven  for  he  had  offended  God  of 
heven :  for  which  shamefastnesse  he  had  anon  the  mercy  of 
God.  And  therfore  saith  Semt  Augustine :  That  swiche 
shamefast  folk  ben  next  foryevenesse  and  mercy.  Another 
signe,  is  humilitee  in  confession:  of  whiche  sayth  Seint 
Peter ;  Humbleth  you  under  the  might  of  God :  the  hond 
of  God  is  mighty  in  confession,  for  therby  God  foryeveth 
thee  thy  sinnes,  for  he  alone  hath  the  power.  And  this 
humilitee  shal  be  in  herte,  and  in  signe  outwarde :  for  right 
as  he  hath  humilitee  to  God  in  his  herte,  right  so  shuld  he 
humble  his  body  outward  to  the  preest,  that  sitteth  in 
Goddes  place.  For  which  in  no  maner,  sith  that  Crist  is 
soveraine,  and  the  preest  mene  and  mediatour  betwix 
Crist  and  the  sinner,  and  the  sinner  is  last  by  way  of 
reson,  than  shuld  not  the  sinner  sitte  as  high  as  his  con- 
fessour, but  knele  before  him  or  at  his  feet,  but  if  maladie 
distrouble  it :  for  he  shal  not  take  kepe  who  sitteth  ther, 
but  in  whos  place  he  sitteth.  A  man  that  hath  trespassed 
to  a  Lord,  and  cometh  for  to  axe  mercie  and  maken  bin 

1  Aggravate. 


576  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

accorde,  and  setteth  him  doun  anon  by  the  Lord,  men 
wolde  holde  him  outrageous,  and  not  worthy  so  sone  for 
to  have  remission  ne  mercy.  The  thridde  signe  is,  that  the 
shrift  shuld  be  ful  of  teres,  if  men  mo  wen  wepe,  and  if  they 
mowe  not  wepe  with  hir  bodily  eyen,  than  let  hem  wepe  in 
hir  herte.  Swiche  was  the  confession  of  Seint  Peter ;  for 
after  that  he  had  forsake  Jesu  Crist,  he  went  out  and  wept 
ful  bitterly.  The  fourth  signe  is,  that  he  ne  lete  not  for 
shame  to  shrive  him  and  shewe  his  confession.  Swiche  was 
the  confession  of  Magdeleine,  that  ne  spared,  for  no  shame 
of  hem  that  weren  at  the  feste,  to  go  to  our  Lord  Jesu 
Crist  and  beknowe  to  him  hire  sinnes.  The  fifthe  signe  is, 
that  a  man  or  a  woman  be  obeisant  to  receive  the  penance 
that  hem  is  enjoined.  For  certes  Jesu  Crist  for  the  gilt 
of  man  was  obedient  to  the  deth. 

The  second  condition  of  veray  confession  is,  that  it  be 
hastily  don :  for  certes,  if  a  man  hadde  a  dedly  wound,  ever 
the  lenger  that  he  taried  to  warishe.1  himself,  the  more 
wold  it  corrupt  and  haste  him  to  his  deth,  and  also  the 
wound  wold  be  the  werse  for  to  hele.  And  right  so  fareth 
sinne,  that  longe  time  is  in  a  man  unshewed.2  Certes  a 
man  ought  hastily  to  shewe  his  sinnes  for  many  causes ;  as 
for  drede  of  deth,  that  cometh  oft  sodenly,  and  is  in  no 
certain  what  time  it  shal  be,  ne  in  what  place ;  and  eke  the 
drenching  of  o  sinne  draweth  in  another:  and  also  the 
lenger  that  he  tarieth,  the  ferther  is  he  fro  Crist.  And  if 
he  abide  to  his  last  day,  scarcely  may  he  shrive  him  or 
remembre  him  of  his  sinnes,  or  repent  him  for  the  grevous 
maladie  of  his  deth.  And  for  as  moche  as  he  ne  hath  in 
his  lif  herkeued  Jesu  Crist,  whan  he  hath  spoken  unto  him, 
he  shal  crie  unto  our  Lord  at  his  last  day,  and  scarcely  wol 
he  herken  him.  And  understonde  that  this  condition  muste 
have  foure  thinges.  First  that  the  shrift  be  purveyed3 
afore,  and  avised,  for  wicked  hast  doth  not  profite ;  and 
that  a  man  con  shrive  him  of  his  sinnes,  be  it  of  pride,  or 
envie,  and  so  forth,  with  the  spices  and  circumstances; 
and  that  he  have  comprehended  in  his  minde  the  nombre 
and  the  gretnesse  of  his  sinnes,  and  how  longe  he  hath  lien 
in  sinne ;  and  eke  that  he  be  contrite  for  his  sinnes,  and  be 
in  stedfast  purpose  (by  the  grace  of  God)  never  efte4  to 
fall  into  sinne ;  and  also  that  he  drede5  and  countrewaite8 

i  Heal.  *  Unconfessed.  3  Foreseen. 

*  After.  *  Doubt.  •  Controvert. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  577 

himself,  that  he  flee  the  occasions  of  sinne,  to  whiche  he  is 
inclined.  Also  thou  shalt  shrive  thee  of  all  thy  shines  to  o 
man,  and  not  parcelmele1  to  o  man,  and  parcelmele  to  another; 
that  is  to  understonde,  in  entent  to  depart'1  thy  confession 
for  shame  or  drede,  for  it  is  hut  strangling  of  thy  soule. 
For  certes,  Jesu  Crist  is  entierly  all  good,  in  him  is  not 
imperfection,  and  therfore  either  he  foryeveth  all  parfitly, 
or  elles  never  a  dele.  I  say  not  that  if  thou  be  assigned  to 
thy  penitencer  for  certain  sinne,  that  thou  art  bouude  to 
shewe  him  all  the  remenant  of  thy  sinnes,  of  whiche  thou 
hast  ben  shriven  of  thy  curat,  but  if  it  like  thee  of  thyn 
humilitee;  this  is  no  departing  of  shrift.  Ne  I  say  not, 
ther  as  I  speke  of  division  of  confession,  that  if  thou  have 
licence  to  shrive  thee  to  a  discrete  and  an  honest  preest, 
and  wher  thee  liketh,  and  by  the  licence  of  thy  curat,  that 
thou  ne  mayest  wel  shrive  thee  to  him  of  all  thy  sinnes:  but 
lete  no  blot  be  behind:  lete  no  sinne  bo  untolde  as  fer  as 
thou  hast  remembrance.  And  whan  thou  shalt  be  shriven 
of  thy  curat,  tell  him  eke  all  the  sinnes  that  thou  hast  don 
sith  thou  were  laste  shriven.  This  is  no  wicked  entente  of 
division  of  shrift. 

Also  the  veray  shrift  axeth  certain  conditions.  First 
that  thou  shrive  thee  by  thy  free  will,  not  constreined,  ne 
for  shame  of  folk,  ne  for  maladic,  or  swiche  other  thinges: 
for  it  is  reson,  that  ho  that  trespasseth  by  his  free  will, 
that  by  his  free  will  he  confesse  his  trespas;  and  that  non 
other  man  telle  his  sinne  but  himself:  ne  he  shal  not  nay, 
ne  deny  his  sinne,  ne  wrath  him  ayenst  the  preest  for 
amonesting  him  to  lete  his  sinne.  The  second  condition 
is,  that  thy  shrift  be  lawful,  that  is  to  say,  that  thou  that 
shrivest  thee,  and  eke  the  preest  that  hereth  thy  confes- 
sion, be  veraily  in  the  feith  of  holy  chirche,  and  that  a  man 
ne  be  not  despeired  of  the  mercie  of  Jesu  Crist,  as  Cain 
and  Judas  were.  And  eke  a  man  muste  accuse  himself  of 
his  owen  trespas  and  not  another:  but  he  shal  blame  and 
wite  himselfe  of  his  owen  malice  and  of  his  sinne,  and  non 
other:  but  natheles,  if  that  another  man  be  encheson  or 
enticer  of  his  sinne,  or  the  estate  of  the  person  be  swiche  by 
which  his  sinne  is  agregged,  or  elles  that  he  may  not 
plainly  shrive  him  but  he  tell  the  person  with  whiche  he 
hath  sinned,  than  may  he  tell,  so  that  his  entent  ne 
be  not  to  backbite  the  person,  but  only  to  declare  his 
confession. 

1  Piecemeal.  -  Divide. 

49 


578  THE   CANTERBURY  TALES. 

Thou  ne  shalt  not  also  make  no  lesinges  in  thy  odn- 
fession  for  humilitee,  peraventure,  to  say  that  thou  hast 
committed  and  don  swiche  sinnes,  of  which  that  thou  ne 
were  never  gilty.  For  Seint  Augustine  sayth;  if  that 
thou,  hecause  of  thin  humilitee,  makest  a  lesing  on  thyself, 
though  thou  were  not  in  sinne  before,  yet  arte  thou  than 
in  sinne  thurgh  thy  lesing.  Thou  must  also  shew  thy 
sinne  by  thy  propre  mouth,  but  thou  be  dombe,  and  not  by 
no  letter:  for  thou  that  hast  don  the  sinne,  thou  shalt 
have  the  shame  of  the  confession.  Thou  shalt  not  eke 
peint  thy  confession,  with  faire  and  subtil  wordes,  to  cover 
the  more  thy  sinne:  for  than  begilest  thou  thyself,  and  not 
the  preest:  thou  must  tell  it  plainly,  be  it  never  so  foule 
ne  so  horrible.  Thou  shalt  eke  shrive  thee  to  a  preest  that 
is  discrete  to  conseille  thee :  and  eke  thou  shalt  not  shrive 
thee  for  vaine  glorie,  ne  for  ypocrisie,  ne  for  no  cause,  but 
only  for  the  doute  of  Jesu  Crist,  and  the  hele  of  thy  soule. 
Thou  shalt  not  eke  renne  to  the  preest  al  sodenly,  to  tell 
him  lightly  thy  sinne,  as  who  telleth  a  jape  or  a  tale,  but 
avisedly  and  with  good  devotion;  and  generally  shrive 
thee  ofte:  if  thou  ofte  fall,  ofte  arise  by  confession.  And 
though  thou  shrive  thee  ofter  than  ones  of  sinne  which 
thou  hast  be  shriven  of,  it  is  more  merite:  and,  as  sayth 
Seint  Augustine,  thou  shalt  have  the  more  lightly  relese 
and  grace  of  God,  both  of  sinne  and  of  peine.  And 
certes  ones  a  yere  at  the  lest  way  it  is  lawful  to  be 
houseled,  for  sothely  ones  a  yere  all  thinges  in  the  erthe 
renovelen.1 

Explicit  secunda  pars  Penifentia :  et  sequitur  tertia  pars. 

Now  have  I  told  you  of  veray  confession,  that  is  the 
seconde  part  of  penitence:  The  thridde  part  is  satisfaction, 
and  that  stont  most  generally  in  almesse  dede  and  in  bodily 
peine.  Now  ben  ther  three  maner  of  almesse:  contrition 
of  herte,  wher  a  man  offreth  himself  to  God :  another  is,  to 
have  pitee  of  the  defaute  of  his  neighbour:  and  the  thridde 
is,  in  yeving  of  good  conseil,  gostly  and  bodily,  wher  as  men 
have  nede,  and  namely  in  sustenance  of  mannes  food.  And 
take  kepe  that  a  man  hath  nede  of  thise  thinges  generally, 
he  hath  nede  of  food,  of  clothing,  and  of  herberow,2  he  hath 
nede  of  charitable  conseilling  and  visiting  in  prison  and  in 

i  Are  renewed.  *  Lodging. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  579 

maladie,  and  sepulture  of  his  ded  body.  And  if  thou  maiest 
not  visite  the  nedeful  in  prison  in  thy  person,  visite  hem 
with  thy  message  and  thy  yeftes.  Thise  ben  generally  the 
almesses  and  werkes  of  charitee,  of  hem  that  have  temporel 
richesses,  or  discretion  in  conseilling.  Of  thise  werkes  shalt 
thou  heren  at  the  day  of  dome. 

This  almesse  shuldest  thou  do  of  thy  propre  thinges,  and 
hastily,1  and  prively  if  thou  mayest:  but  natheles,  if  thou 
mayest  not  do  it  prively,  thou  shalt  not  forbere  to  do 
almesse,  though  men  see  it,  so  that  it  be  not  don  for  thanke 
of  the  world,  but  only  to  have  thanke  of  Jesu  Crist.  For, 
as  witnesseth  Seint  Mathewe,  Cap.  v.  a  citee  may  not  be 
hid  that  is  sette  on  a  mountaine,  ne  men  light  not  a  lan- 
teme,  to  put  it  under  a  bushell,  but  setten  it  upon  a  can- 
dlesticke,  to  lighten  the  men  in  the  hous:  right  so  shal 
your  light  lighten  before  men,  that  they  mowe  see  your  good 
werkes,  and  glorifie  your  Fader  that  is  in  heven. 

Now  as  for  to  speke  of  bodily  peine,  it  stont  in  praiers, 
in  waking,  in  fasting,  and  in  vertuous  teching.  Of  orisons 
ye  shul  understand,  that  orisons  or  prayers,  is  to  say,  a 
pitous  will  of  herte,  that  setteth  it  in  God,  and  expresseth 
it  by  word  outward,  to  remeve  harmes,  and  to  have  thinges 
spirituel  and  perdurable,  and  somtime  temporel  thinges. 
Of  which  orisons,  certes  in  the  orison  of  the  Paternoster 
hath  Jesu  Crist  enclosed  most  thinges.  Certes  it  is  pri- 
vileged of  three  thinges  in  his  dignitee,  for  whiche  it  is  more 
digne  than  any  other  prayer:  lor  that  Jesu  Crist  himself 
made  it:  and  it  is  short,  for  it  shuld  be  coude  the  more 
lightly,  and  to  hold  it  the  more  esie  in  herte,  and  helpe 
himself  the  ofter  with  this  orison,  and  for  a  man  shuld  be 
the  lesse  wery  to  say  it,  and  for  a  man  may  not  excuse  him 
to  lerne  it,  it  is  so  shorte  and  so  esie :  and  for  it  compre- 
hendeth  in  himself  all  good  prayers.  The  exposition  of 
this  holy  prayer,  that  is  so  excellent  and  so  digne,  I  betake 
to  the  maisters  of  theologie,  save  thus  moche  wol  I  say, 
that  whan  thou  prayest,  that  God  shuld  foryeve  thee  thy 
giltes  as  thou  foryevest  hem  that  have  agiltea  thee,  be  wel 
ware  that  thou  be  not  out  of  charitee.  This  holy  orison 
amenuseth  eke  venial  sinne,  and  therfore  it  apperteineth 
specially  to  penitence. 

This  prayer  must  be  trewely  sayd,  and  in  perfect  feith, 
and  that  men  prayen  to  God  ordinately,  discretely,  and 

1  Keadily. 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

devoutly:  and  alway  a  man  shal  put  his  will  to  be  snb- 
gette  to  the  will  of  God.  This  orison  must  eke  be  sayd 
with  gret  humblesse  and  ful  pure,  and  honestly,  and  not 
to  the  annoyance  of  any  man  or  woman.  It  must  eke  be 
continued  with  werkes  of  charitee.  It  availeth  eke  ayenst 
the  vices  of  the  soule :  for,  as  sayth  Seint  Jerome,  by  fast- 
ing ben  saved  the  vices  of  the  flesh,  and  by  prayer  the  vices 
of  the  soule. 

After  this  thou  shalt  understonde,  that  bodily  peine 
stont  in  waking.  For  Jesu  Crist  sayth:  wake  ye  and 
pray  ye,  that  ye  ne  enter  into  wicked  temptation.  Ye 
shul  understond  also,  that  fasting  stont  in  three  thinges :  in 
forbering  of  bodily  mete  and  drinke,  in  forbering  of  worldly 
jolitee,  and  in  forbering  of  dedly  sin:  this  is  to  say,  that 
a  man  shall  kepe  him  fro  dedly  sinne  with  all  his  might. 

And  thou  shalt  understonde  also,  that  God  ordeined  fast- 
ing, and  to  fasting  apperteineth  foure  thinges.  Largenesse 
to  poure  folk :  gladnesse  of  herte  spirituel :  not  to  be  angry 
ne  annoied,  ne  grutch  for  he  fasteth:  and  also  resonable 
houre  for  to  ete  by  mesure,  that  is  to  say,  a  man  shal  not 
ete  in  untime,  ne  sit  the  longer  at  the  table,  for  he  fasteth. 

Than  shalt  thou  understonde,  that  bodily  peine  stont  in 
discipline,  or  teching,  by  word,  or  by  writing,  or  by  en- 
sample.  Also  in  wering  of  here  or  of  stamin,1  or  of  haber- 
geons on  hir  naked  flesh  for  Cristes  sake;  but  ware  thee 
wel  that  swiche  maner  penances  ne  make  not  thin  herte 
bitter  or  angry,  ne  annoied  of  thyself;  for  better  is  to  cast 
away  thin  here  than  to  cast  away  the  swetenesse  of  our 
Lord  Jesu  Crist.  And  therfore  saith  Seint  Poule:  clothe 
you,  as  they  that  ben  chosen  of  God  in  herte,  of  miseri- 
corde,  debonairtree,  sufFrance,  and  swiche  maner  of  clothing, 
of  whiche  Jesu  Crist  is  more  plesed  than  with  the  heres  or 
habergeons. 

Than  is  discipline  eke,  in  knocking  of  thy  brest,  in 
scourging  with  yerdes,  in  kneling,  in  tribulation,  in  suf- 
ficing patiently  wronges  that  ben  don  to  thee,  and  eke  in 
patient  suffring  of  maladies,  or  lesing  of  worldly  catel,  or  wif, 
or  child,  or  other  frendes. 

Than  shalt  thou  understond,  which  thinges   distourben 

Eenance,  and  this  is  in  foure  maners ;  that  is  drede,  shame, 
ope,  and  wanhope,  that  is,  desperation.    And  for  to  speke 
first  of  drede,  for  which  he  weneth  that  he  may  suilre  no 

1  Estamine,  a  kind  of  woollen  cloth. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE.  581 

penance,  ther  ayenst  is  remedie  for  to  thinke,  that  bodily 

Eenance  is   but  short  and  litel  at  regard  of  the  peine  of 
elle,  that  is  so  cruel  and  so  longe,  that  it  lasteth  withouten 
ende. 

Now  ayenst  the  shame  that  a  man  hath  to  shrive  him,  and 
namely  thise  Ipocrites,  that  wold  be  holden  so  parfit,  that 
they  have  no  nede  to  shrive  hem,  ayenst  that  shame  shuld 
a  man  thinke,  that  by  way  of  reson,  he  that  hath  not  ben 
ashamed  to  do  foule  thinges,  certcs  him  ought  not  be  ashamed 
to  do  faire  thinges,  and  that  is  confessions.  A  man  shuld 
also  thinke,  that  God  seeth  and  knoweth  al  his  thoughtes, 
and  al  his  werkes,  and  to  him  may  nothing  be  hid  ne 
covered.  Men  shuld  eke  remembre  hem  of  the  shame  that 
is  to  come  at  the  day  of  dome,  to  hem  that  ben  not  peni- 
tent in  this  present  uf :  for  all  the  creatures  in  heven,  and 
in  erthe,  and  in  helle,  shul  see  apertly  all  that  they  hiden  in 
this  world. 

Now  for  to  speke  of  the  hope  of  hem,  that  ben  so 
negligent  and  slowe  to  shrive  hem:  that  stondeth  in  two 
maners.  That  on  is,  that  he  hopeth  for  to  live  long,  and 
for  to  purchase  moche  richesse  for  his  delit,  and  than  he  wol 
shrive  him :  and,  as  he  sayeth,  he  may,  as  him  semeth,  than 
timely  ynough  come  to  shrift:  another  is,  the  surquedrie1 
that  he  hath  in  Cristes  mercie.  Ayenst  the  first  vice,  he  shal 
thinke  that  our  Uf  is  in  no  sikernesse,  and  eke  that  all 
the  richesse  in  this  world  ben  in  aventure,  and  passen  as  a 
shadowe  on  a  wall;  and,  as  sayth  Seint  Gregorie,  that  it 
apperteineth  to  the  gret  rightwisnesse  of  God,  that  never 
shal  the  peine  stinte  of  hem,  that  never  wold  withdrawe  hem 
from  sinne,  hir  thankes,3  but  ever  continue  in  sinne:  for 
thilke  perpetuel  will  to  don  sinne  shall  they  have  perpetuel 
peine. 

Wanhope  is  in  two  maners.  The  first  wanhope  is,  in  the 
mercie  of  God :  that  other  is,  that  they  think  that  they  ne 
might  not  long  persever  in  goodnesse.  The  first  wanhope 
cometh  of  that,  he  demeth  that  he  hath  sinned  so  gretly 
and  so  oft,  and  so  long  lyen  in  sinne,  that  he  shal  not  be 
saved.  Certes  ayenst  that  cursed  wanhope  shulde  he  thinke, 
that  the  passion  of  Jesu  Crist  is  more  stronge  for  to  unbinde, 
than  sinne  is  strong  for  to  binde.  Ayenst  the  second  wanhope 
he  shal  thinke,  that  as  often  as  he  falleth,  he  may  arisen 
again  by  penitence :  and  though  he  never  so  longe  hath  lyen 

1  Conceit,  too  great  confidence.  '-  By  their  free  will. 

49* 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

in  sinne,  the  mercie  of  Crist  is  alway  redy  to  receive  him 
to  mercie.  Ayenst  that^vanhope  that  he  demeth  he  shuld 
not  longe  persever  in  goodnesse,  he  shal  think,  that  the 
feblenesse  of  the  devil  may  nothing  do,  but  if  men  wol 
suffre  him :  and  eke  he  shal  have  strength  of  the  helpe  of 
Jesu  Crist,  and  of  all  his  chirche,  and  of  the  protection  of 
angels,  if  him  list. 

Than  shul  men  understonde,  what  is  the  fruit  of  penance ; 
and  after  the  wordes  of  Jesu  Crist,  it  is  an  endeles  blisse 
of  heven,  ther  joye  hath  no  contrariositee  of  wo  ne  gre- 
vance ;  ther  all  harmes  ben  passed  of  this  present  lif ;  ther 
as  is  sikernesse  from  the  peines  of  helle;  ther  as  is  the 
blisful  compagnie,  that  rejoycen  hem  ever  mo  everich  of 
others  joye;  ther  as  the  body  of  man,  that  whilom  was 
foule  and  derke,  is  more  clere  than  the  sonne;  ther  as  the 
body  that  whilom  was  sike  and  freele,  feble  and  mortal,  is 
immortal,  and  so  strong  and  so  hole,  that  ther  ne  may 
nothing  appeire  it:  ther  as  is  neither  hunger,  ne  thurste, 
ne  colde,  but  every  soule  replenished  with  the  sight  of  the 
parfit  knowing  of  God.  This  blisful  regne  mowe  men  pur- 
chase by  poverte  spirituel,  and  the  glorie  by  lowlinesse, 
the  plentee  of  joye  by  hunger  and  thurst,  and  the  reste  by 
travaile,  and  the  lif  by  deth  and  mortification  of  sinne: 
to  which  life  he  us  bring,  that  bought  us  with  his  precious 
blood.    Amen. 

Now  preye  I  to  hem  alle  that  herken  this  litel  tretise  or 
reden  it,  that  if  ther  be  any  thing  in  it  that  liketh  hem, 
that  therof  they  thanken  our  Lord  Jesu  Crist,  of  whom 
procedeth  all  witte  and  all  godenesse;  and  if  ther  be  any 
thing  that  displeseth  hem,  I  preye  hem  also  that  they 
arrette1  it  to  the  defaute  of  myn  unkonning,  and  not  to 
my  wille,  that  wold  fayn  have  seyde  better  if  I  hadde  had 
konning;  for  our  boke  seyth,  all  that  is  writen  is  writen 
for  oure  doctrine,  and  that  is  myn  entente.  Wherfore  I 
beseke  you  mekely  for  the  mercie  of  God  that  ye  preye 
for  me,  that  Crist  have  mercie  of  me,  and  foryeve  me  my 
giltes,  [and  namely  of  myn  translations  and  enditinges  of 
worldly  vanitees,  the  which  I  revoke  in  my  Retractions, 
as  the  boke  of  Troilus,  the  boke  also  of  Fame,  the  boke  of 
the  five  and  twenty  ladies,  the  boke  of  the  Duchesse,  the 
boke  of  Seint  Valentines  day  of  the  Farlement  of  briddes, 

*  Impute. 


THE  PERSONES  TALE  083 

the  tales  of  Canterbury,  thilke  that  soimcn  unto  sinne,  the 
boke  of  the  Leon,1  and  many  an  etln  boke,  if  they  were 
in  my  remembraunce,  and  many  a  song  and  many  a  lecherous 
lay,  Crist  of  his  grete  mercie  foryeve  me  the  sinne.  But 
of  the  translation  of  Boes  of  consolation,  and  other  bokes  of 
legendes  of  Seints,  and  of  Omelies,  and  moralite,  and 
devotion,  that  thanko  I  oure  Lord  Jesu  Crist,  and  his  blisful 
mother,  and  alle  the  Seintes  in  heven,  beseking  hem  that 
they  fro  hensforth  unto  my  lyves  ende  sende  me  grace  to 
bewaile  my  giltes,  and  to  stodien  to  the  savation  of  my  soule,] 
and  graunte  me  grace  of  verray  penance,  confession  and 
satisfaction  to  don  in  this  present  lif,  thorgh  the  benigne 
grace  of  him,  that  is  king  of  kinges  and  preste  of  alle  prestes, 
that  bought  us  with  the  precious  blode  of  his  herte,  so  that  I 
mote  ben  on  of  hem  atte  the  laste  day  of  dome  that  shullen 
be  saved;  qui  cum  Deo  patre  et  Spiritu  sane  to  vivis  et 
rcgnas  Deus  per  omnia  seeula.    Amen. 


THE  END  OP  THE  CANTEBBUBY  TALES.' 


1  This  has  never  heen  discovered  in  any  MS. 

2  On  the  last  paragraph,  beginning  "  Now  preye  I,"  &c,  Tyrwhitt  has 
the  following  observations,  which  we  present  in  a  condensed  form : 

"  What  follows  being  found,  with  some  small  variations,  in  all 
complete  MSS.  (I  believe)  of  the  Canterbury  Tales,  and  in  both  Caxton'a 
editions,  which  were  undoubtedly  printed  from  MSS.,  there  was  no 
pretence  to  leave  it  out  in  this  edition,  however  difficult  it  may  be  to 
give  any  satisfactory  account  of  it. 

"I  must  first  take  notice,  that  this  passage  in  MS.  Ask.  1.  is  intro- 
duced by  these  words — '  Here  takcth  the  maker  his  leve,'  and  is  con- 
cluded by  •  Here  endeth  the  Persones  Tale.'  In  Edit.  Ca.  2,  it  is  clearly 
separated  from  the  Persones  Tale,  and  entitled  '  The  Prayer.'  In  the 
MSS.,  in  which  it  is  also  separated  from  the  Persones  Tale,  I  do  not 
remember  to  have  seen  it  distinguished  by  any  title,  either  of  Prayer,  or 
Revocation;  or  Retractation,  as  it  is  called  in  the  Preface  to  Ed.  Urry.  If 
we  believe  what  is  said  in  p.  582,  line  39,  Chaucer  had  written  a  distinct 
piece  entitled  his  Retractions,  in  which  he  had  revoked  his  blameablo 
compositions. 

"  The  just  inference  from  these  variations  in  the  MSS.  is,  perhaps, 
that  none  of  them  are  to  be  at  all  relied  on ;  that  different  copyists  have 


584  THE  CANTERBURY  TALES. 

given  this  passage  the  title  that  pleased  them  best,  and  have  attributed 
it  to  the  Fersone  or  to  Chaucer,  as  the  matter  seemed  to  them  to  be 
most  suitable  to  the  one  or  the  other. 

"  Mr.  Hearne,  whose  greatest  weakness  was  not  his  incredulity,  has 
declared  his  suspicion, '  that  the  Revocation,  meaning  this  whole  pas- 
sage, is  not  genuine,  but  that  it  was  made  by  the  Monks.'  App.  to 
R.  G.  p.  603.  I  cannot  go  quite  so  far.  I  think,  if  the  Monks  had  set 
about  making  a  Revocation  for  Chaucer  to  be  annexed  to  the  Canter- 
bury Tales,  they  would  have  made  one  more  in  form.  The  same  objec- 
tion lies  to  the  supposal,  that  it  was  made  by  himself. 

"  The  most  probable  hypothesis  which  has  occurred  to  me  for  the 
solution  of  these  difficulties,  is  to  suppose  that  the  beginning  of  this 
passage,  except  the  words  or  reden  it  in  p.  582,  line  28,  and  the  end 
make  together  the  genuine  conclusion  of  the  Persones  tale,  and  that  the 
middle  part,  which  I  have  inclosed  between  hooks,  is  an  interpolation. 

"  It  must  be  allowed,  I  think,  as  I  have  observed  before  in  the  Dis- 
course, &c. ;  §  xlii.  that  the  appellation  of  *  litel  tretise'  suits  better  with 
the  Persones  tale  taken  singly,  than  with  the  whole  work.  The  doubt 
expressed  in  line  30, '  if  there  be  anything  that  displeaseth,'  &c.,  is  very 
agreeable  to  the  manner  in  which  the  Persone  speaks  in  his  Prologue, 
ver.  17366.  The  mention  of  verray  penance  confession  and  satisfaction' 
in  p.  583,  line  12,  seems  to  refer  pointedly  to  the  subject  of  the  speaker's 
preceding  discourse;  and  the  title  given  to  Christ  in  p.  583,  line  15, 
'  Preste  of  all  Prestes,'  seems  peculiarly  proper  in  the  mouth  of  a 
priest. 

"  So  much  for  those  parts  which  may  be  supposed  to  have  originally 
belonged  to  the  Persone.  With  respect  to  the  middle  part,  I  think  it 
not  improbable  that  Chaucer  might  be  persuaded,  by  the  Religious 
who  attended  him  in  his  last  illness,  to  revoke,  or  retract,  certain  of  his 
works ;  or  at  least  that  they  might  give  out,  that  he  had  made  such 
Retractions  as  they  thought  proper.  In  either  case,  it  is  possible  that 
the  same  zeal  might  think  it  expedient  to  join  the  substance  of  these 
Retractions  to  the  Canterbury  Tales,  the  antidote  to  the  poison ;  and 
might  accordingly  procure  the  present  interpolation  to  be  made  in  the 
Epilogue  to  the  Persones  tale,  taking  care  at  the  same  time,  by  the 
insertion  of  the  words  '  or  reden  iff  in  line  28,  to  convert  that  Epilogue 
from  an  address  of  the  Persone  to  his  hearers  into  an  address  of  Chaucer 
to  his  readers. 

"  The  mention  of '  the  boke  of  five  and  twenty  ladies ;'  the  reading  of 
all  the  MSS.,  if  genuine,  affords  a  strong  proof  that  this  enumeration  of 
Chaucer's  works  was  not  drawn  up  by  himself;  as  there  is  no  ground 
for  believing  that  the  Legende  of  Good  Women  ever  contained,  or  was 
intended  to  contain,  the  histories  of  five  and  twenty  Ladies.  See  note  on 
ver.  4481.  It  is  possible,  however,  that  xxv.  may  have  been  put  by 
mistake  for  xix. 

"  As  to  what  is  said  of  *  the  tales  of  Canterbury,'  &c.,  if  we  suppose 
that  this  passage  was  written  by  Chaucer  himself,  to  make  part  of  the 
conclusion  of  his  Canterbury  Tales,  it  must  appear  rather  extraordinary 
that  he  should  mention  those  tales  in  this  general  manner,  and  in  the 
midst  of  his  other  works.  It  would  have  been  more  natural  to  have  placed 
them  either  at  the  beginning  or  at  the  end  of  his  catalogue.  However, 
whether  we  suppose  this  list  of  Chaucer's  exceptionable  works  to  have 


THE    PERS0NE3  TALE.  585 

been  drawn  up  by  himself  or  by  any  other  person,  it  is  unaccountable 
that  his  translation  of  the  Roman  de  la  Hose  should  be  omitted.  If  he 
translated  the  whole  of  that  very  extraordinary  composition,  as  is  most 
probable,  he  could  scarce  avoid  being  guilty  of  a  much  greater  licentious- 
ness, in  sentiment  as  well  as  diction,  than  we  find  in  any  of  his  other 
writings.  His  translation,  as  we  have  it,  breaks  of  at  ver.  6370  of  the 
original  (ver.  5810.  Ed.  Urr.)  and  beginning  again  at  ver.  11263,  ends 
imperfect  at  ver.  13105.  In  the  latter  part  we  have  a  strong  proof  of 
the  negligence  of  the  first  editor,  who  did  not  perceive  that  two  leavea 
In  his  MS.  were  misplaced.  The  passage  from  ver.  7013  to  ver.  7068 
incl.,  and  the  passage  from  ver.  7267  to  ver.  7304  incl.,  should  be 
inserted  after  ver.  7160.  The  later  Editors  have  all  copied  this,  as  well 
as  many  other  blunders  of  less  consequence,  which  they  must  have  dis- 
covered, if  they  bad  consulted  the  French  original." 


686 


ADDENDA. 


P.  6,  note  6.  Sir  Harris  Nicholas,  Notes,  p.  142,  observes:  "  It  may, 
however,  be  doubted  whether  Chancer  did  not  mean  that  she  could  not 
speak  French  at  all;  for  it  seems  that,  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth, 
the  expression,'  French  of  Stratford  at  Bow,'  was  a  colloquial  paraphrase 
for  English." 

P.  17,  line  470.  The  word  seems  sometimes  to  have  been  written  gag- 
tothed;  for  Saunders,  in  his  scandalous  account  of  Anne  Boleyn,  says: 
"  She  was  ill-shaped  and  ugly,  had  six  fingers,  agag-tootk,  and  a  tumour 
under  her  chin."  "  Gap-toothed,"  would  seem  to  indicate  teeth  which 
stood  at  a  little  distance  from  each  other ;  but  the  meaning  of  a  "  gag- 
tooth"  has  not  been  ascertained. — Sir  Harris  Nicolas,  Notes  to  Pre/ace, 
p.  144. 

P.  28,  line  8S8,  Large  field  to  ear.  Mr.  Hippesley  (Chapters  on  Early 
English  Literature)  appends  to  this  word  the  note,  "  To  plough,"  I  sup- 
pose, from  aro;  and  Mr.  Cowden  Clarke  says,  "  To  till,  to  plough."  But 
is  it  not  much  more  likely  that  to  ear,  means  to  bring  to  ear — to  harvest  ? 
Elsewhere  the  Knight  says,  he  lists  not  to  speak  of  the  chaff,  nor  the 
straw,  but  of  the  corn  of  his  subject. — Saunders'  Canterbury  Tales. 

P.  55,  line  1931.  The  "  yellow  goldes"  are  the  yellow  flowers  of  the 
Turnsol . — Saunders. 

P.  65,  line  2292.  This  appears  to  refer  to  the  species  called  cerres,  the 
Turkey  oak,  one  of  the  most  graceful  of  all  the  known  kinds,  and  which 
is  very  common  all  over  the  south-east  of  Europe.  The  oak  was  dedicated 
to  Diana,  so  Emily  wears  "  the  green  oak,  cerial." — Saunders,  v.  i.  p.  57. 

P.  192,  line  6990.  Cotgrave  explains  the  wariangle  to  be  a  small 
wood -pecker,  black  and  white  of  colour,  and  but  half  as  big  as  the 
ordinary  green  one.  Speght,  however,  supposes  it  to  refer  to  the  butcher- 
bird.— Saunders,  v.  i.  p.  167. 

P.  282,  line  10361.  The  eight  days  in  each  month,  known  by  the 
Romans  as  the  Ides,  were  reckoned  backwards,  from  the  13th,  except 
in  the  months  of  March,  May,  July,  and  October,  when  the  reckoning 
was  from  the  15th.  The  15th  of  March  was  therefore  Cambuscan's  birth- 
day.— Saunders,  v.  ii.  p.  8. 

P.  334, line  12340, — blaJceberied. "  The  meaning  of  these  words,"  observes 
Saunders,  (v.  ii.  p.  79)  "  is  said  to  be  unknown,  beyond  their  evident 
general  expression  of  the  recklessness  of  the  Pardoner  as  to  the  spiritual 
welfare  of  those  whom  he  professes  to  be  so  anxious  about.  But  it  seems 
to  ns  the  passage,  their  souls  go  buried  in  black,  is  a  powerful  poetical 
figure  for  souls  lost  in  the  blackness  of  final  guilt  and  perdition.'' 

THE  END. 


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